


Id

by albxnx



Series: Id and its side-content [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alpha Azumane Asahi, Alpha Bokuto Koutarou, Alpha Goshiki Tsutomu, Alpha Haiba Lev, Alpha Hinata Shouyou, Alpha Kageyama Tobio, Alpha Kindaichi Yuutarou, Alpha Kuroo Tetsurou, Alpha Kyoutani Kentarou, Alpha Nishinoya Yuu, Alpha Oikawa Tooru, Alpha Sawamura Daichi, Alpha Tanaka Ryuunosuke, Alpha Tsukishima Kei, Alpha Ushijima Wakatoshi, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Basically it's about idiots trying to survive a dictatorship, Beta Hanamaki Takahiro, Beta Kai Nobuyuki, Beta Komi Haruki, Beta Konoha Akinori, Beta Matsukawa Issei, Beta Semi Eita, Beta Shirabu Kenjirou, Beta Sugawara Koushi, Beta Yahaba Shigeru, Dubious Consent, Fluff and Angst, Gen, I'm Bad At Tagging, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Multi, Nesting, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Akaashi Keiji, Omega Iwaizumi Hajime, Omega Kozume Kenma, Omega Kunimi Akira, Omega Shibayama Yuuki, Omega Yaku Morisuke, Omega Yamaguchi Tadashi, Oops, Pack Bonding, Pack Dynamics, Pack Family, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rutting, Scent Marking, They form one big family to cope so it's real cute, also angst, beta tendou satori
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:14:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 81,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26450932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/albxnx/pseuds/albxnx
Summary: Kuroo knows better than to let his body betray him.He knows they need to hide, need to control themselves. He knows his friends are constantly in danger, and that a single mistake could lead to their doom.He knows they're all Ferals, creatures with secondary genders that the Gods have sent on Earth as a punishment for the human race.He knows all of that, and he lives by those truths to navigate the madness of his new life.But a single day changes it all. A single mistake, a single omission.Now they need to fight back to protect those they love.And it's a game they can't afford to lose.~~Some relationships BUT main focus is on pack dynamics (ie bonding and (non-)sexual affection)~~The tags hate me but the main ships are Bokuaka, Oiiwa, Kuroyaku, Matsuhana.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Azumane Asahi/Nishinoya Yuu, Haiba Lev/Shibayama Yuuki, Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, Hinata Shouyou/Kozume Kenma, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kindaichi Yuutarou/Kunimi Akira, Komi Haruki/Konoha Akinori, Kuroo Tetsurou/Yaku Morisuke, Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Tendou Satori/Ushijima Wakatoshi, Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Series: Id and its side-content [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1985584
Comments: 208
Kudos: 177





	1. Going Feral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto reflects on the new world, on its changes.  
> There's untold sorrow in the air, and no one dares to put a name on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Light reference to abuse/ male preg /non-con/ traffic accidents

History books account for the most painful of surprises. They tell the tales of facts and figures, the delusions of grandeur of those who win and conquer.

When the world changed, five years ago, some argued that humanity had set sail for divine redemption. Others suggested that evolution had simply showcased its ineffable wonders. Very few suggested that the truth could be found in the voices of those that were silenced.

Humankind spoke loud, discussed and made laws. The early days of their collective confusion had created a wordless chaos of sounds and syllables, of senseless sentences and decisions. They let fear and incomprehension guide their steps through a terribly long night which they filled with imaginary monsters instead of lighting flashlights up.

And then, against a common enemy, it seemed as if humanity suddenly spoke in a single voice, deafening to an extent that muted the pleas of those they had not even tried to hear.

Five years ago, a twenty-five years old Japanese man underwent an MRI scan to check on a tumour. Routine procedure, really, until the surgeons found out that the tissues in question were not exactly cancer-related: the anomaly developing at a rapid pace inside the stomach of the poor fellow was none other than the first stages of growth of a fully functional uterus. Now, it wouldn’t have bothered anyone had it been the uterus of a transgender person. Extremist religious groups would have groaned, but they usually needed less than that to throw a tantrum anyway... 

In any case, the world would have needed much more than one trans man amongst many getting an MRI to go insane…

However, you would be right to expect a certain amount of foreshadowing from the expression “would have needed much more”.

It is similar to that moment in horror movies when one of the protagonists is covered in blood and says “Well, it couldn’t get worse...”, and suddenly someone decides to let out the scream of a lifetime in the distance. 

Well, that is pretty much what happened, to be honest… 

Indeed, a uterus in the body of a man was old news. If you had a shred of human decency, you would simply ignore it, or offer support if needed. Apparently, the doctors did not think much of it, and they would have overlooked the matter had the patient’s medical history not been primordial to any invasive surgery: the only reason why they decided to confront him was that the man had not warned them, and thus they needed more information to avoid using drugs and medications that could harm him.

Now, what really made the news was the patient’s look of disbelief when the medical staff hinted at their discovery: indeed, this growing uterus had been found in the stomach of a very much confused and very much cisgender man.

His story seemed like that of a cheap horror movie. Many wished it had been one.

Wished they could have laughed, back then, when they read that newspaper’s headline: A UTERUS APPEARED IN THE STOMACH OF A CISGENDER MAN IN TOKYO

They wished there had been only one headline.

They prayed for it to be false.

A few weeks after that article came out, another was released to the public: WORLD TOP SCIENTIST LACHLAN ROCESTER SETS ON INVESTIGATING MYSTERIOUS CASES OF BIOLOGICAL CHANGES

As it turned out, Mister Cisgender-Uterus-Man had become fertile. As in, the womb had matured, acquired a bunch of ovules, and his entire body had slowly started to shift into a shape fit to welcome  _ life _ . Strange glands had grown under the skin of his neck, near his right clavicle; little bumps, barely visible yet sensitive to the touch, which seemed to control a whole new set of hormones. His behaviour had become awkward too, according to some sources. He had grown  _ needy _ , one might say.

T hinking back, many signs should have caught the public’s attention from the very beginning. How governments around the world kept most details classified. How this “strange case of extremely rapid mutations” was the only recorded one, for some reason. How getting into a hospital became much easier than getting out.

How social and religious tensions turned sour enough for the air to be barely breathable.

Remember the mention of foreshadowing? Well, a week later, all the leaders around the globe delivered speeches. Copy and paste, unanimous voices that spoke for hours, only to say the unthinkable. There were no words to describe what was happening in their world, and yet they found many of them; enough material to cover the ugly truth with pretty clothes.

He only remembered of those speeches what his brain processed, after untangling the mess of political niceties: Mister Uterus-Cis-Dude was not the only one. There were other men like him, and women too, the latter, instead of a uterus, having grown a sizeable sexual organ, able to produce semen. He remembered Kuroo joking about how men would never struggle  _ to find it _ anymore…

He remembered his voice being much too dry for a joke.

Weeks went by, cases soared. Yet the mutated humans never managed to outnumber them.

Them. The religious bigots. The racists. The assholes. Even the “good progressive people”.

All those lucky ones who needed a scapegoat; they remained 23 against 1, 230 against 10. Mutations remained rare occurrences.

He wished they had outnumbered them. Wished they had been in control of their own bodily changes so that they could have stood up and screamed that they were not monsters. Cried that a pregnant man was nothing new, that a woman with a fertile penis had the right to exist. That emitting, sensing and being sensitive to pheromones did not make them any less human.

But then, there were the first heats, the first ruts… 

What scared them most? The pathetic whimpers of an Omega, or the violent desires of an Alpha? 

He wished the Bible had not mentioned Lust as a Sin. He wished they had not become the perfect proof of God’s wrath...

He also wished they hadn’t commissioned Rocester to solve the situation. The perfect mix between a religious fanatic and a mad scientist. A man who filled the scared sheep’s brains with follies.

Rocester called them Ferals – the humans turned beasts again. Ferals had appeared one day, out of the blue and unprompted. They were human until their twenties, until their first heat, or rut, or until they could smell and emit animalistic pheromones. Some men – or rather males, grew a uterus, and he called them Omegas. Along with heat-compatible females, they were the pathetic side of Lust. Women who grew an erectile reproductive organ, along with rut-compatible males, were called Alphas – the monstrous, impulsive side of Lust. Those who could only smell and emit pheromones without being much impacted were called Betas – their body’s betrayal was enough for them to be guilty of sin.

Some good-natured people blamed chemicals for their sorry state, well-intentioned scientists suggested an evolution, as sudden as climate change – an adaptive mutation. 

Most listened to Rocester, no matter their religion: the Gods had all cast a curse on humanity, a regression. Ferals were Lust and Temptation, they were children of the Devil – demons. 

He wished their advocates had fought harder.

He wished he could say he was one of the lucky ones. One of those who kept a level head and a certain kindness to their heart, of course, yet one of the lucky ones anyway. He wished he could be on the good side of the story, like a hero, a symbol of justice. He wished he wasn’t on the side of those who had lost their place in the human race.

However, wishes only come true in cheap horror movies.

That, Bokuto knew.

  
  


*****

There used to be a time when being outside brought borderline childish joy to Bokuto’s heart. The outside world was always new, ever-changing, from the people on the streets to the leaves on the trees. There was this underlying curiosity to each and everything that lived, this attention that you could find in the eyes of the most random pigeon.

You could stare at it, stare into its little pupils, and find focus. Were you going to pounce? Were you a predator? Were you going to stop, or to keep on walking?

Survival had become a game of curiosity to humans; they walked through the concrete streets like through an art exhibit, and every single living or inanimate shape on their path was theirs to watch and enjoy.

Bokuto used to be one of those people, who beamed at every little show that life offered him. The world was a work of art, and he liked to think that everything and everyone that filled his days had become the unknowing characters of his life’s novel. It was an exciting thought, to be able to give importance and meaning to his surroundings as if they were his friends.

Now Kuroo used to groan that it was more of a presumptuous belief than an exciting offering to his actors: he said that characters were by definitions the puppet of an author, slaves to a plot that would control their actions until the story’s end; and by then, the dehumanizing fact that they had no lives on their own would fall upon their shoulders, like the heavy steel ball that the puppet master would tie to their ankles as they discarded their narrative into oblivion.

_ Characters are finite things, with an end and a beginning. By thinking of them as elements of your plot, you are implying that you only care for them for the lapse of time during which they are useful to your own story. And that’s kinda fucking selfish, Bo… _

Kuroo had been nothing but teasing him, at that moment, but the thought had not exactly troubled Koutarou anyway.

Kuroo was wrong, after all. There was fundamentally nothing negative about his view of the outside world, for, in his mind, those characters were cherished and essential despite their ephemeral appearances. He sometimes met some of them more than once and felt the exact same joy one feels upon catching a glimpse of an old friend. What would he have given to be able to run towards them, hug them tight – thank them, for filling his life with surprises.

_ Such a romantic man you are, Bo ~ I could almost gag. _

Again, Kuroo was only joking.

Yet he had been right on that point; Bokuto was a man of joy and romantic innocence. Far from stupid, mind you, far from naive. Positivity, truly, was an amazing strength to possess, and Koutarou mastered it.

Now, he had learnt the harsh way that truth was a fluctuating measure. 

_ Characters are finite things _ , Kuroo had said, and Bokuto had shrugged and ignored him.

_ That’s kinda selfish _ , he had concluded, and Koutarou had cocked an eyebrow in mocking disregard. 

There was a time when Bokuto used to love the outside world, for it brought positive, universal, and limitless curiosity to both him and everyone around him, humans and animals alike.

Nowadays, the outside world was a dangerous, coded, timed place.

Koutarou was gazing at his feet, the squishy sound of his boots on the concrete resonating in his ears like the loudest of thunders. Louder than the batting rain, the droplets whipping his hood, louder than the noises from other characters walking past him.

It felt like there was only him, walking out in the open greyness of the street.

The world had become a morose place, with small buildings that looked like metallic boxes, trapping him on the greyish, drenched road, forcing him to step into puddles so muddy they looked filled with ashes. There were no back-alleys in which to meet a loved one, no hidden path to follow to freedom. The world was an endless alley, with lifeless housing units, and a crying sky. 

His world was the Street.

There used to be certain poetry about rain – they destroyed it when they cut down the trees. There used to be liveliness to the paved world of the city – they killed it by taking away cars, street-lights, bars, restaurants, shops. 

In Bokuto’s world, there was only the Street now. The single, long alley, with maybe 40 Buildings, 4 Apartments in each of them. The supermarket near Building 1, the laundromat across the road, and that was it.

That was their Street. 

If you wanted to exercise, the gym was in another alley. If you wanted to entertain yourself, the cinemas and theatres were in another neighbourhood. The universities, the schools, the rest of the world too. There was the Street, and there was the Outside World. 

And it was so close, that world, as close as the adjacent turn to the left, or to the right. There were the lights and life of a real city surrounding them. But the Street was a dead patch in a thriving field.

They had not built any fences, nor doors, had barely put any guards at all. But there was a curfew, at 8pm; at 7, you had to be on the Street. At 8, you had to be in your Apartment.

Those were the only rules, and the world accepted them.

_ Ferals usually present between their twentieth and thirtieth year. It is imperative, if we must help and understand their population, that we isolate them for those ten years.  _

A cage without fences. One for each city and village in the world. A Street, with so little rules that you could feel free.

You could feel human.

But where there are no rules, there are no limits to mistakes. 

They wanted those who lived on the Streets to trip, to stammer, to hesitate. Hiss, growl, purr. They wanted to see skin, on your neck – your glands. They wanted a sudden dripping heat on the pavement, or a rock-hard Alpha to pounce on someone.

_ No cameras _ , Rocester added, smiling through the TV channels of the entire world,  _ I suggest that you don’t waste your budgets on any cameras, detectors, MRI scans or military aid. Ferals are human beings worthy of dignity. They will come forward so we can help them. _

And the world listened to him. Most of the leaders would have followed him blindly if needed. They loved him, you see, because he only gave pieces of advice, suggestions; never orders.

So the world understood  _ No cameras _ , but they also understood  _ Do whatever you want with those you find _ .

For torture is  _ help _ for one who believes in their own medicine.

And murder is salvation to the fanatic.

Bokuto clenched the few thousand yens he had buried in his hoodie’s pocket, feeling their cold moistness under his fingers. It was so cold, so boring, on the Street. Beauty had died when curiosity became dangerous.

He tried to warm himself up by remembering the list Kuroo had given him.

“ _ A pound of salmon, a pound and a half of potatoes and one of carrots, chocolate cereals, and uuuuum… If you find some flour I could make a cake...” _

“ _ And toilet paper. We are running out of toilet paper...” _

“ _ Ah right, Kenma! Toilet paper then, Bo. Call me if you forget anything.” _

Bokuto often wondered why they even bothered giving them government-assigned cellphones. It was not like anyone would be stupid enough to give private information through messages or phone calls – especially on a state-issued one. On the Street, there were rarely any guards, but everybody knew that phones had always been suspicious anyway. Even regular humans should be wary of their phones.

_ Salmon, potatoes, carrots, chocolate cereals, flour, toilet paper. _

He could try to sing it, but the rain was pounding too hard to think of a melody. He had almost reached the supermarket anyway.

_ Salmon, potatoes, carrots, chocolate cereals, flour, toilet paper. _

This was boring. As lifeless as the concrete on which he had kept his eyes screwed.

The only sign of life around was the growing smell of saccharine and flowers. A scent so sweet, so reassuring he could almost tear up.

He wanted to look back, to say hi.

It would not hurt, would it? An exception, a ray of hope. No one would notice, or find it suspicious. 

There were so few interesting scents on the Street – the wet concrete was suffocating. And this one smelled alive. This odour felt like a friend.

All humans smelled alive, of course, but their scent was so faint, so dull. Bokuto had never noticed it before. Now, it stood out clear like blood on the snow: one out of twenty-three people smelled better than average humans.

He called that a quality.

The saccharine aroma was growing stronger by the second, and it brought a smile to his lips as he stood behind a dull human being in the waiting line – when did his characters become so boring?

The rain was still pounding around them, but the smell of humid soil had been replaced by the joyous, sweet scent. He could taste it on his tongue, and he had to refrain from opening his mouth to feel it better.

They were behind him. The human with the saccharine, flowery smell; just behind.

Bokuto could turn around, and through the heavy rain, he would still see them. Because they were so close, and smelled so peaceful.

He wanted to be freely curious again.

The queue advanced, one step ahead, then stopped again.

Warmth brushed his back – they were so warm, so reassuring.

It felt like home. It felt like he was not in the cold anymore, but in his Apartment – Number 3, with Kuroo cooking, with Kenma-

It smelled like Kenma.

Flowery, sugary, fruity undertones of sheer warmth and softness.

Kenma had joined him, in the cold, in the rain and the smell of decaying concrete. Maybe to keep him company? 

A beam spread on his lips, and the world lit up with colours again. He turned around, golden eyes filled with endearment and joy upon seeing the bi-coloured hair of his friend.

However, it was not Kenma.

It was a man, even smaller than this sweet roommate of his, with short light brown hair, hazel eyes like those of a cat. He had an umbrella, an impermeable bag, and a tensed gaze locked with Bokuto’s.

It was not Kenma. 

It was Yaku, from Building 3, Apartment 1.

It simply was another Omega.

Koutarou’s excited beam melted into a slightly embarrassed smile, and he scratched the back of his head; the wet concrete must have messed with his sensitive nose for him not to tell a neighbour from a roommate.

“Yo, Yaku-chan…” he grinned, “Didn’t see you there...”

_ Smell  _ was a more correct term, but they both knew better than to let their tongues slip.

The Omega raised an eyebrow, staring him up and down. Drenched hoodie, drenched jeans, drenched trainers; he let out a sigh.

“Do you not know how to take care of yourself? What do you even think you are doing, standing there in the rain with no umbrella?” Yaku groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Well, just like you, I’m waiting to shop for some groceries,” he chuckled, knowing that the shorter man’s question was mainly rhetorical, “Did not think people would queue up on a rainy day...”

Yaku shook his head in annoyance, stepping forward to protect Bokuto under his umbrella.

“Doesn’t Kuroo know better than to send you off without at least checking that you did not forget your brain? Did you even think about taking a decent bag?”

Koutarou had the innocent audacity to think for a few seconds, before smiling sheepishly. He removed his drenched hood, pepper and salt locks sticking messily to his face. Yaku groaned again, rambling about how irresponsible he was, and how Kuroo would have to hear about it next time he saw him. 

Bokuto couldn’t refrain a smile; Morisuke always managed to find excuses to come over and yell at Kuroo anyway.

Their little discussion was nothing out of the ordinary. Bokuto saw Yaku almost every day, on his daily walks, or sometimes when he was on shopping or laundry duty. He also visited their apartment quite a lot, should it be to check on Kenma or keep Kuroo on his toes. 

Bokuto enjoyed his company, and he knew that Tetsurou loved having him home too - although he would never admit it to Yaku’s face.

They were friends, close friends one might say. 

Yet Koutaroy had not known him for more than a year - from the moment the Street System was implemented. 

Out of all the people in Tokyo’s Eastern Street, Kuroo was the only one he knew from “before”.

Having friends was a dangerous gamble. Too few, and you were suspicious. Too many, and the risks of a snowball effect increased.

If one of your friends turned out to be a Feral, you’d be suspected too, by the Feral Control Center’s officials and other inhabitants of the Street alike. Eyes and ears were everywhere, no matter what they pretended.

Having friends was a necessity to balance with great care. However, fear triggers a natural desire to seek comfort against those who will show empathy, your peers.

Add to that fear a heightened sense of smell, and you’ll get that Ferals of the same Street all knew and recognized one another.

So of course, by trying to avoid them, you are all the more attracted. They are a silent acquaintance, with whom you only share a nervous glance at first.

And by the end of the first year, all of them are your friends, to different degrees.

There were thirty-one Ferals on Tokyo’s Eastern Street in total.

All linked, like a trail of gasoline leading to a barrel of gunpowder.

*****

“You really didn’t have to, Yaku...”

“Shut up, I told you it was no big deal. I want to kick Kuroo’s butt myself.”

Bokuto exhaled softly, knowing better than to argue with the short-tempered short-sized Omega. Yaku had taken all of his groceries away from him, shoved them into his impermeable bag, and was now leading the drenched man back to his own place at a quick pace – too quick for someone with such small legs, in Bokuto’s opinion.

Koutarou could not help but smile, watching as the Omega kicked the door to the building open. The sound of his wet shoes squeaking on the floor resonated in the corridors as he immediately took a turn towards the stairs. His sweet sugary perfume – not at all fitting his aura, mind you, was even stronger, and much more distinct now that they were in the safe concrete building. It was just as grey as the Street, just as cold and lifeless, but at least it was a home.

“Do you have your keys?” Yaku shouted from the third floor, Bokuto hurrying a little to catch up.

“Uh… Well… I might have forg-”

“Oh fuck’s sake, why are you even out on the street without your mom?”

The comment made Koutarou let out a low grumble, pouting softly as he reached Yaku’s level. There was only one apartment per floor, so Yaku did not hesitate before latching onto the wooden plank, slamming his fist on it three times.

“YO OPEN THE  _ FUCK  _ UP”

Bokuto grinned as he heard a loud bang – probably coming from the kitchen. The air was filled with a wonderful composure of aromas already.

This was home, with a family inside; with living, beautiful scents.

They smelled like the outside world to him now, like a bowl of fresh air.

Soon, panicked steps reached the other side of the door, and Kuroo slammed it open with wide eyes and a hand to his head – he had probably bumped it on a cupboard.

“The actual  _ fuck _ , Yaku? What are you doing here?”

Bokuto bit on his lower lip not to smile too much; his best friend was blushing already, and not only from surprise.

Yaku pushed him aside with a murderous glare, immediately making his way towards the kitchen.

“Brought your kid home, that’s what I did! You’ve sent him to the grocery store without a proper bag nor an umbrella, you absolute excuse for an intelligent form of life!”

Kuroo smelled like spices, like pepper and paprika. But that wasn’t only because he had been cooking, despite the state of his apron and his rolled-up sleeves: he naturally smelled like the warmth of a kitchen, like the spice of a carefully crafted recipe. 

Alphas usually had strong, warm smells, but his was particularly refined. 

Bokuto, from what he had been told, smelt more like lavender.

The cook put a hand to his waist, a pissed pout on his lips as Bokuto closed the door and joined them. The little Omega was already putting the groceries on the shelves with as few hesitations as if he lived there.

“Well my  _ kid _ is a fully grown twenty-three years old man, so I had assumed he would think about such obvious necessities.”

He threw his best friend an accusative glare, and Koutarou simply grinned. He couldn’t hold it against him: no one wanted to get yelled at by Yaku. Not even smitten-boy Kuroo Tetsurou.

“Sorry mom, I’ll go and get changed ~” he cooed, hurrying away when he heard that the two others had started bickering again.

All the Apartments were built in the same peculiar way, with wooden floors and an assortment of white and blue walls: an L shape, with on the shortest side a kitchen that was open on a living room, and on the other a long corridor with five bedrooms and one bathroom, with a ratio of three rooms on each side – obviously, that line of the L was much thicker. 

Bokuto found the Apartments fairly pretty when one overlooked the fact that they were all completely identical. He walked into the living room, finding Kenma slouched on the couch, a Nintendo Switch held at a rather unhealthy length from his eyes, meaning roughly five inches.

Koutarou stopped to grin at him, never skipping on an occasion to tease his roommates.

“Hey Kenma ~ You know, Kuroo is in a really bad mood at the moment. If he finds you playing so close to the screen again, he will throw that thing out of the window.”

The Omega gazed up, eyes underlined with the marks of someone who had not slept in days, pupils madly constricted in a  _ Try me _ expression.

“Did you buy the chocolate pops?”

“Yup~”

“Kay.”

The conversation breathed its last right at that moment, but Bokuto insisted on performing CPR.

“Yaku is here by the way.”

“I know.”

It was hard not to hear the yelling coming from the kitchen. Something along the lines of “GO BACK TO YOUR CHILDREN, YOU GNOME” and “NOT UNTIL YOU’VE APOLOGIZED FOR WASTING MY TIME, YOU ROOSTER”.

“Aren’t you gonna say “Hi”?” Koutarou tried again.

There was a short silence, during which Kenma stared at the ceiling, and Bokuto almost thought he had fallen asleep with his eyes open.

“I don’t think so, no. If he wants to see me, he’ll find me.”

Koutarou chuckled but did not insist. He motioned towards the corridor, walking past Kunimi’s door.

It was locked, as always; the young Omega was probably listening to some music or reading on his own.

A shiver ran up Koutarou’ spine as a draft of air coming from the bathroom painfully reminded him of his drenched clothes. Konoha was getting out of the room, a towel tightened around his waist. The blond Beta smiled upon seeing him and waved.

“Ah, Bokuto! Shower’s free, you look like you need it.”

The Alpha sighed dramatically, walking up to him. He rested against his friend’s shoulders, relishing in the bit of contact he managed to steal. Konoha, on his side, groaned almost immediately.

“Ah shit, you’re drenched, dude...”

Koutarou whined, wrapping his arms around the poor Beta, buried against his neck. He found the glands there and nuzzled against them, scent-marking his friend in an attempt to ease his discomfort – and to lengthen the warm embrace.

It worked, for the other tensed down and sighed.

“Come on, everyone’s mad at me today,” Bokuto explained weakly, “Yaku’s in the kitchen yelling at Kuroo for not giving me an umbrella, and everyone else is busy.”

Konoha blinked and let out a dry chuckle, scratching his Alpha’s head. He earned a purr from the other man, which was enough to put the matter of his drenched clothes aside.

“If by busy, you mean Kunimi and Kenma, I can reassure you: they’ve done nothing but play video games together since this morning...”

“Whaaat? You’ve seen Kunimi today? I almost thought he had gone into hibernation...”

The other man grinned, shaking his head. 

Betas smelled like cookie dough - or at least, Konoha did; they were similar to humans, except for their sense of smell and their small scent glands. Bokuto did not know much about the other Betas around the world, but he knew that those of his Street always smelled nice and warm.

“Well if you had woken up a bit earlier, you’d have seen him finishing the chocolate cereals before escaping back to his room...”

Koutarou let out a soft groan, deciding not to comment on that hidden criticism; he was too cold and exhausted for that.

Slowly, he let go of his comfortable friend, pressing a kiss to his temple before walking towards the bathroom.

*****

Yaku was gone by the time Bokuto got out of his room. He was showered and dressed, hair blown dry, and the first thing he noticed was how silent the place had turned. Aromas of fish stew filled the air, announcing dinner time before Kuroo had had the chance to call him.

The Alpha made his way towards the kitchen, salivating already; his stomach growled in anticipation. To his surprise, he was the last to reach the table, and his arrival did not seem to make much of an impact.

Konoha grinned when he saw him, gazing up from the large pan of reddish stew that Kuroo was stirring on the stove.

“Hey, Bokuto! You’re just on time!”

“You’re sure you’ve tasted it properly?” Kenma mumbled from his seat, eyes screwed onto a game on his phone.

Konoha turned towards the Omega with a chuckle, “Yes, I promise it’s edible. I took two spoonfuls of soup.”

Kuroo let out a soft groan upon Kozume’s comment, turning around to point an accusative spatula towards him.

“Every time you ask Konoha for taste verification, Kenma, a part of my kind heart is shattered.”

Kozume simply shrugged, and only gazed up when Bokuto sat next to him. The Alpha gulped, trying to ignore the sharp gaze that was now piercing through him like daggers. There was something about that Omega that always made you feel like you had committed a federal crime – under  _ his _ law, of course.

“You took your time,” he finally pointed out, making Bokuto blink in confusion.

Safe for now.

“I… I barely took twenty minutes!” he argued, gesturing widely as if acting like an octopus would make him less guilty.

“That’s enough for a stew to be overcooked. Kuroo doesn’t need that for his food to be disgusting.”

Konoha snickered as the black-haired Alpha turned back to his stew, grumbling to himself about how heartless Kenma was. Kunimi remained silent for the most part, and today was no exception. He observed without saying a word that wasn’t called for, fiddling with his fork.

However, Bokuto was happy to notice a slight smile on his lips upon Kenma’s words; truly, the gamer was the only one that could take him out of his shell. 

Soon, the stew had been served, and the household started to eat in silence. Koutarou hated the quietness of the new world, so he rarely let it fill his home. 

“How was Yaku?” he enquired, sipping on a spoonful of fairly decent soup, not looking Kuroo in the eyes.

The aim was to fan a dying flame, so that a conversation could arise from Kuroo’s frustration.

Bokuto had found the right target: Kuroo dropped his spoon, staring at him with murder in his eyes.

“Whaaaaat? How Yaku was? Wouldn’t you like to know,  _ kid _ ?” he drawled, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Bokuto gave him a sheepish grin, and Konoha wheezed again, turning away in an attempt to escape Kuroo’s fury. It failed, for the Alpha gasped and gave him a light slap on the head.

“Now don’t you start, Konoha! Do you even know how much of a furious bastard that small asshole can be? I don’t think I can ever let Bokuto out without double-checking him like a madman! AND DON’T YOU LAUGH EITHER, BO, THIS IS ABOUT YOU!”

Too late, the two men were sniggering, unable to hold their spoons any longer. Konoha had even buried his face in his hands, almost tearing up.

It was just so ridiculous, how Kuroo was the tallest Alpha in the household, and yet he was the one Yaku  _ always  _ yelled at whenever they met. All was fair in love and war, as one could say… 

Yet, in a sense, it was not really  _ fair _ , for Kuroo was the kindest man on Earth. He supported his friends with no hesitation, he cooked and cleaned and made sure everyone in his household was taking good care of themselves.

Rocester talked about “pack dynamics”, with a “dominant Alpha”. 

Bokuto simply saw a family, and an amazing friend.

Kenma gazed up from his stew, giving Bokuto and Konoha a very judgmental look, before staring at Kuroo.

“You stink when you’re upset; calm your pheromones.”

The two wheezing idiots fought back another string of laughter upon seeing Kuroo’s face melting in shock at the blatant insult. 

Yet the “dominant” Alpha did not even get a chance to defend himself, for a light sound reached his ears.

Kunimi had let out a small chuckle. 

Kunimi, whom he always had to drag out of his room to take a stroll outside. Kunimi, who never wanted to play board games with them, who rarely spoke, barely smiled.

Kunimi, who looked so miserable living with them, had laughed.

The sight soothed Kuroo’s heart, and he couldn’t help a soft smile as he stirred his stew with a spoon. His scent turned a bit sweeter, like honey, and Bokuto was reminded of how much distress Kunimi’s discomfort was causing his caring friend on a daily basis.

A comfortable silence settled in the room, and this time Koutarou did not wish to break it. His friends’ scents were enough for him to feel the buzzing emotional life within them. Konoha was still very much on the edge of laughing nervously again, and his pheromones were completely agitated. Kenma and Kunimi smelled as soft and stable as always, with the latter’s sour undertones maybe a little sweeter now. Yet the most peaceful of scents at the table surely was Kuroo’s.

In the end, maybe it was a gift, to be able to understand your friends so perfectly without them even having to speak through the clattering sound of spoons and rustling clothes, 

Maybe someone up high had decided that in the lifeless world to come, silence had to become the martyrs’ weapon and comfort. Bokuto did not feel ready to accept silence as home yet, but he had learnt to enjoy its hidden quirks.

The sound of the world was that of pain now, like the cry of a wounded beast, the tires of a truck before hitting a wall of pedestrians. Friends could betray, words could betray; speak them too loud and peace was broken.

“I saw Shouyou today,” Kenma casually said, staring at his empty plate.

All eyes fell onto him, and Kuroo grinned.

“Mmh, and how’s Chibi-chan doing?”

“He said Yamaguchi had had his heats.”

Broken peace, like a shattered glass, always preceded a silence as painful as the ones from “before”.

There was a tension in the room now, as if an abusive father had passed the threshold. Empty plates caught every eye, like fine paintings, still lives. If you did not look, maybe you wouldn’t hear.

Kunimi’s saccharine scent turned sour again, his face lost his peaceful traits to a nervous frown. Even Konoha’s mood darkened as he took a glance at Kuroo’s closed expression.

Bokuto was suddenly reminded of how much he hated silences.

“And how did it go?” the dark-haired Alpha asked, voice dry.

“Okay, I suppose,” Kenma simply said, stirring his food aimlessly, “Shouyou looked tired. He said the stress of being discovered kept them all up at night.”

As no one answered, the Omega continued, “Yamaguchi’s fine though. His heats were short, and he stayed in his room. Tsukishima was even ready to help, but they did not want to risk anything-”

“You know it isn’t safe to talk about it in the open.”

Kuroo’s voice was cold, dry like an autumnal draft. His scent turned harsher, bitter; Bokuto could not help but gaze away.

_ It _ was a forbidden topic, for walls had ears and casual mentions could become the words that slipped in public settings.

Kenma tensed up under the pheromones of stress his friend emitted, “We were careful.”

“Careful isn’t enough,” Kuroo cut him again.

This time, Kozume’s eyes blazed with slight frustration.

“Oh, then what  _ is _ enough? When and where exactly can I talk about it with him?”

Konoha and Bokuto shared a nervous gaze across the table, before looking over to Kuroo. The Alpha’s muscles were completely tense, his jaw stiff.

“Never,” he simply breathed out, “We don’t talk about it with them. We don’t talk about it at all.”

“Why? It’s the reason we’re here. It’s the reason why we know each other in the first place, why we know the others-”

“It is  _ dangerous _ , Kenma-”

“Of course it is, do you think I’m dumb?” the young Omega sighed, shaking his head, “But we do not need to pretend with  _ them _ . We don’t need to, because they are like us. Tell me then: if our kind is so dangerous to talk to, why did we _ all _ choose the same apartments?”

He had a point. A fair one. Out of fear, when the Street System started, all the Ferals had ended up in the same six flats. It had been easy: in the crowd of youngsters lining up to register for an apartment, it was impossible not to spot at least one of your kind, through smell. So you would register for the same apartment as them, to live with at least one familiar scent and presence. Then the next Feral would register for the same one as yours, to be with you, and so on and so forth, until the “anomalies” that should have been scarcely spread along the Street found themselves in the same six apartments.

Kuroo bit his tongue not to snap, but his pheromones were almost suffocating by now. Kunimi pressed a hand to his nose, standing up to discard his dishes, before hurrying away under Bokuto’s saddened gaze. His friend would regret his behaviour when morning comes; a year of efforts scared away in a single conversation.

“We did not know any better, we acted out of fear and instinct rather than logic,” Tetsuro groaned, eyes shining coldly, “But if we want to survive, we  _ need  _ to be discreet- _ ” _

“And what happens when one of us goes into heat on the Street?” Kenma finally snapped, raising his hands, “What happens when your rut makes you pant and salivate out in the open? We don’t know  _ shit  _ about our bodies beside what Rocester and his adepts preach, we don’t know  _ anything _ about what governs our hormonal responses. What if a heat triggers another? Why do we feel the need to bite on those glands of ours, and what will happen when we do? We both know they’ve experimented on the idiots who rushed to the clinics for a treatment, and yet they won’t tell us! They want us to reveal ourselves!”

Kuroo was fulminating now, and their pheromones were clashing in the kitchen.

“It is exactly  _ why  _ we must hide. If their aim is to make us think we cannot betray ourselves, to make us believe we are free, then we must avoid taking too many liberties, avoid the comfort that will make us slip. What happens when someone goes into heat in the open, you ask? Well, they trace it back to their apartment, whose inhabitants lead directly to all the friends they had on the Street, aka  _ us _ .”

Kenma fell silent for a second, amber eyes screwed into Kuroo’s with great displeasure. He shook his head, “If we hide, we lose the opportunity to learn more. We lose the ability to share our knowledge, our tips and tricks, with our people.”

“Don’t say it like that...”

“What?  _ People _ ? But that is what we are, Kuroo. We are Ferals now, not humans. This climate of fear Rocester is implementing seeks to keep us apart. They  _ want  _ us to think like you, for your logic is sensible. It  _ is  _ sensible to stay away from those who could betray us, intentionally or not. It  _ is  _ sensible never to talk about our defining features, never to mention it to anyone, not even in the safety of our homes. And they _ know _ it. They know we cower in fear of stepping out of line.”

He leaned over the table, propping himself on his hands. Bokuto had to gaze away not to let his eyes wander over his arching back. Even Kuroo seemed taken aback by his behaviour, swallowing dryly.

“But I’ll tell you what, Kuroo. They also know someone will get their heats or ruts on the Street, one day. They know that an Alpha will impregnate a male Omega, one day, and they know that scent-marking won’t keep us satisfied eternally when all we want is to mark up our  _ packmates _ .” 

“What… What’s your point then?” Kuroo grumbled, pheromones of anger slowly getting replaced by stress.

Kenma straightened up, grabbing his plate as he walked over to the sink to wash the dishes. Konoha gulped, shaking his head.

“Maybe it’s enough for tonight-”

“No, I want to hear his conclusion. There must be one, if he’s so confident.”

Kuroo’s voice was tight with stress, and he didn’t even spare the Beta a glance, eyes screwed onto Kenma. Akinori sighed and gently raised a hand to his friend’s neck. He ran it down the burning skin until he reached his mating glands, which he massaged in slow circles, hoping to help him relax a little.

Bokuto was relieved to see the Alpha tensing down under his touch. He instinctively raised a slightly shaky hand to Konoha’s, caressing his wrist with a soft thumb in return.

Kenma did not look at them as he passed a sponge on his plate.

“Shouyou and his packmates want to chat with the other Ferals of the Street. They want to see if they can collect and share information.”

Bokuto gulped. A secret ring. He could smell Kuroo getting all the more restless. The Alpha stood up at once, startling Konoha.

“Kenma, I was almost ready to accept your point on making friends, but this is absolutely insane. Do you really think an underground network will keep us safe and hidden?” he gasped out.

“No,” the Omega responded without batting an eye, “I don’t pretend that it will be safe in the long run.”

“Then  _ why  _ putting it in place at all?”

There was a short silence, which felt like years to Bokuto. His stomach sank to his feet in apprehension. The three of them knew that Kenma was too smart to support such a dangerous plan if it would only result in momentary bliss and comfort.

The Omega turned around calmly. Sweet, sweet saccharine scent.

“Because the plan is not to build an underground ring, Kuroo. The plan is to gather data, people, and escape.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya~~ How are y'all? 
> 
> SO I'm head deep into the Haikyuu fandom, and I think it is A SHAME that there are so few omegaverses focusing on Pack Dynamics, considering how cute and sweet all those babes are and how fitting the idea of "teams" is to the whole concept.
> 
> This work won't be focused on the teams themselves though, but rather on potential dynamics, friendships, etc... To make it short: I'm playing around by platonically mixing my favourite characters together through pack dynamics, with a background of sensuality, undercover operations, and dystopian world ;) (my motto is "Plot before porn" but of c o u r s e I cannot write an omegaverse without some s m u t)
> 
> I'm also taking the opportunity to apologize for the boring world description, aka the entire first chapter XD This is by far the worst introduction I've ever written, but I needed to get an introspective view on Bokuto's perception
> 
> For the update schedule, it's once every two weeks ;)  
> For now I am motivated, so let's make my procrastination productive (oooooo oxymoron by a moron)
> 
> Sorry for the grammar mistakes and horrible style by the way, I promise I've read proofed it, but English is not my first language
> 
> Also, comments allow me to keep my motivation!  
> What did you think about Kenma's idea?  
> What do you think will happen next?
> 
> Hint for the next chapter: Silent treatment.
> 
> That's it. See ya guys~~  
> Comments (constructive or not) and kudos are appreciated :D


	2. Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenma develops on his plan, while Kuroo thinks about their conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS: mentions of mass-shooting and suicide (as metaphors)

“I think Kuroo is really mad at me.”

Bokuto had a tendency for liking anyone who could break the new silence of the world. So when Kenma spoke, a smile immediately grew onto his lips.

He sat up on the sofa on which he had been lying motionless for a little over twenty minutes, and gazed over at the young Omega.

“Come on, he does  _ not _ hate you!” he grinned, “You’re exaggerating!”

Kenma was still very much sprawled on his own couch, his Nintendo Switch pressed to his face. He barely spared him a glance, fingers running on the controllers with terrifying swiftness.

“Well, I didn’t say he hated me, I said he was mad at me. It’s different.”

Touché.

Kuroo had gone to bed early the previous day, falling unusually speechless after Kenma had mentioned the idea of an escape plan. His pheromone emissions had turned drastically sour, his panic taking them to the throat. Although no one had dared to stop him when he stood up, the three of them had felt sheer sympathy and worry for him.

Bokuto had decided to leave him the night to think, hoping to have a talk with him during their morning run, but the other man had left earlier than usual – early enough for him to escape the apartment before anyone had even woken up. 

Despite his concern for his best friend, Bokuto kept a positive mind.

“Don’t worry, Ken-Ken ~ He’s also mad at me; he did not even wait for me this morning!”

Kenma blinked and finally gazed up to him, eyes shining with incredulity. 

“You do realize you woke up at 11am?”

Bokuto gasped, embarrassment creeping up his cheeks as he gazed away. He usually woke up much earlier to deal with the chores, but he had simply been so exhausted after shopping under the rain.. 

“It was an exception! I was tired, so I woke up later than usual!”

“Oh, and was yesterday an exception too?” Konoha grinned as he joined them, a warm mug of coffee in his hands. He plopped down next to the pouting Alpha, “Cause I sure as hell remember you emerging from your cave at 10:45 ~”

“WELL, IT WASN’T 11AM, WAS IT?”

The human embodiment of a puppy wrapped himself around the Beta, who hissed as he raised his cup.

“Bo, dude, I’ll drop that coffee on your face if you are not a little bit more careful…”

Kenma was focusing on his game again, honestly not much bothered by the now whining Alpha nuzzled against a smug Konoha. His statement on Kuroo’s anger was nothing but an observation; he knew for a fact that his friend would not be pissed for long – he never was.

His concern was more about whether or not it had been a smart move to announce the plan to him so early. Hinata had only mentioned it once; nothing was anywhere near ready nor planned.

“I still think he is mad at me,” he finally sighed, destroying a final boss and setting the game down on his stomach.

Konoha and Bokuto gazed back to him, feeling that they should pay more attention to what he was expressing. They shared a glance, before the Beta smiled softly.

“Well… Maybe he is… But you know how much of a control freak he can be at times!” Konoha tried, unsure about how he should go about reassuring his friend, “He’s probably panicking cause he wants to find a way to keep you and all of us safe...” 

“True!” Bokuto continued, “I mean, don’t you think it reassures him that you trusted him with your ideas instead of acting behind his back?”

Kenma’s eyes widened softly at that second argument; Bokuto had a point. A fair point. Kuroo would have felt completely powerless had he hidden the truth. Maybe he’d have even resented him… 

Konoha blinked, staring at the Alpha in disbelief.

“You  _ do _ have a brain!”

Of course, Koutarou gasped and tackled him onto the sofa – not without the Beta setting his mug down on the table in anticipation first. But Kenma simply smiled, nodding to himself. Bokuto was right, he should not worry. Talking to Kuroo would allow them all to benefit from his analytical scepticism. He was reasonable and well-intentioned. If they had to succeed, they needed Kuroo on their side.

“By the way, Kenma,” Konoha continued, ignoring the fact that the Alpha was crushing him under his weight in a more or less comfortable hug, “What did Hinata say, exactly?”

The conversation had been cut short on the previous night, and frankly, Kenma hadn’t had the opportunity to develop on anything. Again, there was not much to develop on… Those were nothing but hopes, that one day might become ideas, then a plan, then countless dangers and mistakes. And at last, maybe, reality.

The Omega sighed, gazing back to the ceiling.

“Yamaguchi’s first heats have been short but terribly violent, apparently. No one in their pack - or even on the Street, had ever experienced a mating cycle, so it was their first time dealing with such a… side of our kind.”

And they had felt it. This primal need. This powerful desire, beyond control, beyond common sense. This “it” that scared the rest of humanity, that scared even the Ferals themselves.

Bokuto gulped; Hinata’s pack was composed of four Alphas, and one Omega, Yamaguchi. For Tanaka, Kageyama, Tsukishima and him, those three days of heat must have been as terrifying for them as for the poor freckled boy. It was a miracle the five of them had remained in control of themselves; a day longer, and who knew what could have happened… 

Kenma shook his head, “We don’t know shit. That’s what I told Shouyou, that’s what I told Kuroo. We lack proper understanding of our bodies, and of the implicit rules that the government won’t tell us. Rocester is in charge of it all, and those who can’t see that he’s up to something are either blind, stupid, or inherently hostile to us.”

Konoha and Bokuto shared a glance again. It was strange to talk about the situation so freely, to talk about “packs” and not “households”. Kuroo would always make sure never to let them discuss the subject; despite his calm, easy-going personality, he was maybe the wariest of them all.

Konoha cleared his throat, slightly pushing Bokuto off his body to straighten up against the armrest, earning a disapproving groan from the clingy Alpha.

“So, what’s his plan then?”

“He doesn’t have one.”

The Beta gulped, nervously shaking his head, but Kenma continued, “Listen, I never said we would escape today or tomorrow, or even in a month. In fact, I never said we would escape at all.”

Bokuto blinked, letting out a pained whine, “Uh… You kind of did though… I’m not sure I’m following...”

And even if he remained silent, Konoha didn’t look like he had a clue either.

Kenma finally sat up in what looked like a tremendous effort, facing them properly: “Shouyou wants to flee, and I agree with him, but only at 75%. Escaping would be a great option, an optimal one, really, but let’s not forget the entire world is against us. There are many quarantine areas like ours, many fanatics around the world, so the thirty of us escaping remains risky, and potentially more dangerous.”

He put his Nintendo Switch on the small table in front of him, gazing back to his friends.

“Escaping should be a synonym of ensuring our security, not risking it. Technically, Kuroo is correct: we are safe here, as long as our bodies do not betray us. I remind you that this place is supposed to be a “campus” for people in their twenties, meant to locate Ferals without being a prison to “decent citizens”.”

Bokuto felt Konoha nod, and so he turned to look at him while he spoke.

“If I understand completely,” the Beta started, “the idea of an information ring isn’t completely off the table, right? If the aim is to improve our living standards and ensure more security – and to prepare for an eventual emergency escape, we must first focus on connecting with the other apartments, on getting to know them and on gathering raw data. Am I correct?”

“Exactly. Shouyou and his packmates have witnessed first of hand how fragile safety can be when our bodies take over. It is  _ imperative _ that we learn more about the surveillance procedures, the criteria for detecting Ferals – even learn more about what the hell they’ll do to us if they find out. After all, there has been no public return on the fate of the Ferals that have been captured or “placed in voluntary isolation”… We  _ must  _ understand our bodies, through information we can collect from the authorities  _ and  _ from our own experiences. Look, no one but Yamaguchi has been through a mating cycle on the Street yet: how precious would his knowledge be? How important would it be to keep in touch with other Alphas to share information if one of them presents before Kuroo or Bokuto?”

When Kenma spoke, his eyes shone with a thousand amber glimmers. Life had become a video game to him, or at least that was the impression Bokuto had. Tips and tricks, understanding mechanics, surviving – it was all a part of this new world that the Alpha hated so much.

But when Kozume spoke of hope like of a difficult level, it soothed his heart to untold extents; there was at least one person, one of his beloved characters, who found beauty in the new order of things. Under the mud, in murderous coldness, Kenma had dug up hope and curiosity.

It made him smile, and love the freezing rain again.

Koutarou shook his head with a defeated smile, his heart a bit more at peace as he spoke “I thought there wasn’t any surveillance system… That’s what Rocester said...”

“Rocester is a bitch, and I take back what I said on you having a brain,” Konoha sighed. He rubbed Bokuto’s silver hair energetically as a punishment, making the poor man whine and squirm.

Yet no matter how heartless Konoha was, a part of Bokuto did not want to let go of the cookie dough scent. Damn those Betas… 

“There probably is one,” Kenma answered, ignoring them as he thought aloud, “No cameras and microchips, that’s for sure. But probably policemen dressed as civilians, following us when we leave the Street. Or maybe there  _ are _ microchips and cameras hidden in some places, like the supermarket, the laundry store… That’s something we can’t rule out. Only the apartments are safe. But there aren’t many official agents on the main street itself, and barely any random citizens dare to set a foot here… There must be something we are missing...”

Kenma’s mumbling soon resulted in Bokuto losing his interest. He decided to focus on Konoha, who was however not paying attention to the Alpha anymore. A pout of frustration grew on his lips, and he sought something to do to take his revenge on the other man  _ and  _ earn himself some more attention. Koutarou grinned devilishly as he decided to squeeze him as tight as possible, without hurting him of course – that would do it.

And it worked. As soon as Bokuto locked him in a powerful embrace, Konoha yelped and screeched, trying to squirm out of the deathly grip but to no avail. Kenma was startled into sitting back into the couch, eyes wide in confusion as he stared at the Beta that seemed to be living through a near-death experience.

“WHAT THE- BOKUTO YOU ARE CHOKING ME I WILL DIE WHAT THE FUCK DUDE-” 

Bokuto wheezed and let go of him happily, nuzzling against his cookie-scented glands with a proud grin.

“Revenge for calling me brainless ~ Also you’re a total drama queen, I didn’t squeeze that hard.”

“LIKE HELL YOU DID NOT SQUEEZE HARD!”

Bokuto marked a pause, before frowning in frustration. Now Konoha wasn’t being funny, nor giving him the kind of attention he had hoped for. 

“But I  _ did _ _ not _ squeeze hard! Barely even harder than a hug, I was joking around!”

Konoha groaned, pushing him back and pulling his sleeves up. To Bokuto’s surprise, there were large light red marks where he had pressed him. 

“How is  _ that  _ not hard? I thought you were going to break my bones!”

Bokuto was still speechless, watching his marks in absolute disbelief. 

What was that? What the hell was that?

Kenma observed them from afar, his judgmental look having shifted to one of sheer curiosity.

“You sure you did not press him too tightly?” He asked, and Bokuto almost whined, “I did  _ not _ ! At first, I thought about doing it, but I didn’t want to hurt him!”

Konoha shared a glance with Kenma, before grinning at the pouty Alpha. Truly, this man could be such a gigantic baby at times…

It was almost impossible to be mad at him when he made such a sad droopy face.

“Maybe that’s just your big Alpha muscles ~”

“Shut  _ up! _ ” he groaned, squeezing him carefully this time. As long as he could nuzzle against his neck, he didn’t care much. Konoha was his to hug, and he did not have a choice. His fault for smelling like cookie batter...

“Maybe Konoha’s right though,” Kenma pointed out, before standing up to join them.

He opened his arms, staring down at the two confused faces.

“We need to study everything that can be related to our new identities. Bokuto, hug me.”

There was a certain amount of silence Koutarou could tolerate, and the one that followed Kenma’s order was one of them. Silence was, after all, more suitable for processing unexpected information and understanding unthinkable situations.

Both him and Konoha stood in complete disbelief, before the Beta spoke in a low voice.

“D’you think I should record the scene? I don’t think Kuroo will believe us...” 

Kenma frowned, getting a bit restless. He motioned for Bokuto to stand, and the Alpha obeyed almost mechanically. Screw power dynamics, Kozume’s orders were making him respond without even thinking; the little man could kill him if he got pissed enough.

“Here, now hurry.”

Jaw slacked, Konoha gripped the armrest of the sofa, trying to keep himself grounded: what was happening at that moment was historical.

Bokuto gulped, sharing a nervous glance with the Beta, before leaning in at last.

Kenma was much smaller than him, and much frailer than Konoha; he might as well hug a statue of crystal – an empty one, even more prone to shattering. His large arms wrapped around the tiny man, and he rested his chin on his shoulder, not even daring to squeeze.

Time had stopped.

Kenma smelled even sweeter than Konoha, like strawberry marshmallows. Was it what it was like to hug an Omega? Did they all smell so soft, so tender, so deliciously addictive?

They remained in silence for seconds that passed like years, before Kenma cleared his throat.

“So… you’re really tall. My back’s gonna snap if you don’t lower me down.”

“A-ah, sorry-”

“And I asked you to hug me, not to just wrap yourself around me. Squeeze a little or I won’t even be able to tell if your strength is disproportionate.”

Bokuto grumbled a little under the scolding tone, but he obliged. His arms tightened progressively around him, golden eyes focusing on any signal of distress the smaller man might emit.

He was barely feeling like he was putting any pressure into the hug that Kenma let out a huffed breath, tapping on his shoulder;

“Okay… Okay geez, let go...”

Koutarou obeyed as soon as he spoke, standing back and watching him like a kid in front of a broken vase.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, eyes wide.

The Omega rubbed his arms, thinking for a few seconds. From the couch, Konoha waited with both awe and anticipation, still frozen with disbelief.

“Mmh, nah… Not really,” he said, “But the pressure was intense. I watched your muscles though: you didn’t look like you were pushing yourself to crush me.”

Bokuto felt relief wash over the boulder in his stomach, and he gestured widely.

“Exactly! I barely touched you!”

He spun around, gazing at Konoha with proud shining eyes. The Beta simply crossed his arms, shrugging, “As I said, that’s your Alpha muscles...”

Bokuto was about to retort when Kenma spoke again, rubbing his chin, “Well, Bokuto has only tried to hug two people, one of whom was much smaller than him. I don’t think it’s exactly representative.”

Silence again, swirling around them like a winter draft.

An idea hung from the ceiling, yet no one was brave enough to catch it; they kept on staring at the ground, faking deep concentration, waiting for a fierce soul to reach for it.

Bokuto spoke at last, “We could ask Kunimi,” he suggested.

A shiver ran up Konoha’s spine, and he gazed up with incredibly grave eyes.

“I think we should wait for Kuroo-”

“He’s in a bad mood, he won’t be back before at least an hour,” Kenma cut him, “Let’s ask Kunimi.”

Two against one, Konoha was defeated.

Soon enough, the three of them were standing in front of the Omega’s bedroom, staring at the door as if it might hold the answers to the universe. Konoha was a bit behind, having explicitly stated that he was accompanying them solely for the sake of democracy.

Bokuto gulped, scratching the back of his head, “Well… you should go first, Kenma. You know him better than we do.”

“I don’t,” Kenma casually answered, to which Bokuto blinked confusedly.

“But you… you play video games with him…”

“Yes, but he doesn’t play a lot. And when we do, he’s in his room and I’m in mine, or in the living room.”

Konoha pinched his nose, leaning against the wall. Lord, those two were absolutely lost cases…

Bokuto gulped, taking a deep intake of air; someone had to step up. Someone had to become the hero of this narrative.

He gulped, slowly approaching the door. The sweet fruity scent of his roommate already filled his nostrils; he could sense that Kunimi was in a fairly decent mood, which was a positive point.

The Alpha knocked three times, and the world held its breath with him.

Seconds went by without an answer, and Bokuto was about to knock again when Kunimi swung the door open. He was dressed in nothing but grey sweatpants and a light blue shirt, headphones in his left hand.

His dark eyes fell onto the hesitant intruder, and he waited for him to speak with an uninterested expression. However, Koutarou was too startled to even utter a sound, so the young Omega simply sighed.

“May I help you?” 

The sweet saccharine scent had bitter edges again, and Bokuto felt his heart ache with a powerful desire to help the younger man. Was he not happy? Were they not a welcoming home? Was the situation so much harder on him it barred him from seeking help and comfort?

If Kunimi had registered for this apartment, that had to mean he was aware some of his peers would live with him. Wasn’t it what he wanted? 

“I… um… Yes, we are… We wanted to ask you to… assist us in… for...”

“Scientific purpose,” Kenma helped him.

“Scientific purpose,” he concluded.

Kunimi watched them one after the other, before sending Kenma a disapproving glare that made Konoha gulp behind them. Oh, he obviously resented the pudding head for the previous night’s mess… 

“If it’s about yesterday’s conversation, I don’t want anything to do with it,” he warned, shooting Kenma another death glare, “I think Kenma has done enough.” 

Kozume did not even respond. He stood by his beliefs, and if Kunimi did not agree, he just had to side with Kuroo.

Bokuto cleared his throat, “No it’s not… It’s not about the… It’s not,” he concluded, before going on, “The truth is actually quite simple: we would like to see if my hugs are any stronger to you than a regular hug.”

The way the Alpha had said it, with a puffed out chest and serious tone, almost made Konoha lose it, and so he hid his mouth with his hands. In truth, Bokuto had simply debited it as fast as possible not to panic.

The young Omega stared at him with calm eyes, apparently not reacting to the strange request.

Maybe he had not processed the situation? Or maybe he was about to commit murder…

In either case, Bokuto wasn’t all that confident anymore, a nervous smile on his lips.

“No.”

“For scienc-”

“No.”

Bokuto whined, “It’ll be quick! I won’t hurt you!”

“You are not hugging me.”

Kunimi turned around, about to shut the door in his face. These idiots truly took him for a fool. Couldn’t they see that he was at peace, alone in his room?

That was when he realized something was blocking the door in place. He turned around, eyes widening: Kenma had sneaked behind Bokuto, and he was now firmly holding the passage open.

“Bokuto, now.”

His eyes were burning, and Bokuto almost found him scarier than Kunimi.

“B-But Kenma-”

“Bokuto.  _ Now _ .”

His cat-like eyes shone like two flames, staring at him as if he was nothing but a piece of meat, a pawn on his game of chess. Kunimi was a hard boss to defeat, and Kenma wasn’t intending on losing.

Koutarou gulped, but decided the most imminent threat to his life wasn’t the tallest of the two.

He leaned into the bittersweet scent, pressing Kunimi close despite the latter’s offended gasp, gradually applying pressure to go from a light embrace to what he perceived as a decent hug. 

His heart jumped, not yet used to how soft Omegas felt.

For a second, he expected Kunimi to yell, to fight back – hell, to bite him. But the hits never came, and the tensed little man fell awfully still and pliant.

Bokuto blinked softly, hesitating to press him closer. Was he not feeling the same level of pressure as the two others? Or would he let himself die if he just crushed him?

The thought made Koutarou’s heart jump, and before he could let go, he finally heard a little sound.

“Too tight. Loosen up a little.”

Kenma’s eyes widened softly, and while Bokuto did make his embrace a bit more slack, he took a glance at the Omega’s arms. They were indeed marked by the pressure. Konoha approached to check too, and they both shared a glance: their theory seemed correct. Alphas did have above-average strength. 

“You can let go, Bokuto. Now, all we have to do is test that on Kuroo.”

Yet Koutarou did not move. He stayed still, careful, hyper-aware of the smaller figure in his arms.

Konoha and Kenma gazed up to him, confusion slowly melting away as a relieved, discreet smile grew on their lips.

Kunimi had not asked Bokuto to let go.

And so he wouldn’t.

  
  


*****

  
  


Kuroo usually left for his morning run at nine sharp, so he could be home by ten or ten-thirty. Bokuto would come with him when he wasn’t oversleeping, and the two of them would jog down the Street, before entering the rest of the city, where they would race each other to their usual coffee shop. There, they would grab a hot drink, or a cold one during sunny days, before running back home to help around with the chores.

Today, Kuroo left at seven, and didn’t plan on coming back before at least noon. He needed the time off, needed to think, to breathe. He had sat down at the coffee shop instead of simply ordering a drink on the go, and was now staring out of the window, fiddling with his empty coffee cup. 

It had been almost two hours by now, and he did not feel like leaving.

He could hear the loud discussion of three girls in a corner of the shop, lattes in hand, and the rhythmic typing of a student a few tables away. They were background noises, they were not part of his narrative anymore.

A year ago, he might have tried to ask one of the girls out, or might have planned on keeping the coffee’s address for a date with a future boyfriend.

Today he was just numbly watching the busy street, listening to the unfitting sounds of the shop over the images of multicolour cars and people in a hurry. Where were they going, those people? What plans did they have for the future? This lady over there, in the beige cardigan and phone in hand, was she happy? Had she ever taken the time to stop and think about how lucky she was, to stand on that side of the glass, that side of the world?

Unlike her, Kuroo did not feel safe in the open anymore. The coffee shop was a box, a box for a caged animal on a daily transit. Wake up, Street, coffee shop, Street, sleep. The bigger the picture, the less comfortable he was. That lady was lucky to smile, standing on that street, with everywhere to go and everything to live. She was lucky, luckier than all of those who were trapped in the fence-less prison of the Eastern Observation Area.

And in truth, even those who shared his daily life on the Street were luckier than him. Most of them were, that is. They had a maximum of ten years to go in that aimless place, ten years of pseudo-isolation, with nothing to hide and thus nothing to worry about.

He was on a life sentence.

Suppose he gets out, free at last, in seven years. Suppose his card – his Observation Status card, was destroyed at last, burned or chopped into oblivion. How would he go about his life? How would he reintegrate society? What would happen to them, once they stopped getting their monthly spendings financed by the government?

_ Continue your studies. Go on with your daily lives. Find a lover, a job, make a family. Not even 10 of those your age will become Ferals in your part of the city, which gives a maximum of a 100 a year in your Observation Area following a worst-case scenario. Be yourselves, and prepare your futures! _

He was funny, that Rocester. He thought he could control humans like probabilities.

And, above all, he only spoke to the “humans” - the lucky ones. What would happen to people like Kuroo? Even if he wasn’t discovered, he would dance on a rope for his entire life. 

He had put an end to his studies, because the possibility of going into a rut in the amphitheatre was too great. He hadn’t sought a job, because the possibility of being discovered out in the open was too great.

Same for Bokuto, Konoha, Kenma, Kunimi, even Yaku and the others; even some non-Ferals had given up on jobs and university, enjoying those years, or at least their majority, as a long holiday. 

There was always a possibility for humans to start over, or to continue.

There was always a possibility for Kuroo and those of his kind to be stopped in their track. So why bother even starting?

A child fell down in front of the glass, a toddler with blond ponytails. She startled Kuroo out of his daydream, but did not exactly trigger any sense of pity in him. Her mother was already helping and coaxing her into drying her tears. He could see her lips moving, probably in words of encouragement. There was a hand protecting her, guiding her and pulling her up whenever she fell. 

Lord, was it what Bokuto spent his days doing when they were still free? Was it what it felt like to have characters in your life?

It seemed lonely. It seemed like being a spectator in a show for which you auditioned and weren’t cast. 

Maybe Bokuto had a more positive way to think about it… Maybe he did not.

Kuroo used to tease him, to call him selfish for considering himself a main character. In the end,  _ they _ were the selfish ones, all of them who had decided to erase his life and that of his friends from the entire novel.

Kuroo took a glance at his watch; noon, he was late. The Alpha stood up and put a few hundred yens on the table as a tip, before leaving the student and girls to their activities. He wondered how they did not feel caged inside... If he could, he’d be outside, enjoying the same freedoms they were purposefully cutting themselves from. The freedom to hear deafening noises without jumping in fright, to walk past other humans in a busy street without feeling exposed. To dream, to visit another country, to run, to live…

He was hit by the early autumn wind as soon as he stepped out, and he zipped his vest up to his neck. It was easier to hide the glands this way, no matter how almost invisible they were… 

Kuroo bounced on his feet and exhaled to warm his body up. At last, he started jogging, avoiding the pedestrians on his path.

There wasn’t much he could focus on when he was running, and he liked it better. He was alone with his mind, and the outside world Bokuto loved so much disappeared. He had enough material to overthink as it was: his argument with Kenma kept playing over and over again in his brain like a broken record, and he hated himself for leaving the room in such a furious and cold state the previous evening. He had not been himself. Had simply not been in control.

It wasn’t purely physical, and he knew it wasn’t in any way related to his new Alpha instincts. Sure, Kenma was an Omega, and his desire to protect him was obvious. But what he had felt at that moment had been even deeper: it had been sheer fear, the image of Kenma’s bloodied body on the unforgiving concrete, of Bokuto taken away to Gods know where, of Kunimi-

Lord, the way Kunimi had looked at him. The way he had broken his trust by raising his voice, by being unfair. Would he ever be able to make it up to him? Kunimi was the youngest of his household, and Kuroo had failed to protect him.

He had acted like a monster, like the beast fanatics yelled about in the streets without even seeking to understand. He had yelled, and yelled so much Kuroo almost believed them.

Maybe they deserved to disappear, maybe they  _ were _ insults to evolution. The more he thought about it, the more logical it felt.

The entire world had agreed on it, so why couldn’t they accept it too and turn themselves in? Maybe Rocester was good, maybe he would simply keep them in safe places. Maybe they would contribute to the discovery of an antidote.

Looking up to his right, he saw, on the buildings across the road, a large advertising digital board, one of those you find on Broadway. On it, you could see a large black Christian cross, and underneath, the following sentences:

GOD HAS NO PURPOSE FOR THE BESTIAL MEN

CALL YOUR LOCAL GOVERNMENT TO REQUEST THE FUNDING OF BIOLOGICAL CHECK-UPS

NO TO 10 YEARS OF PROBATION FOR DEMONS

NO MORE PRISON FOR YOUNG CHILDREN OF GODS

FREE THE YOUTH

KILL THE FERALS

Prison, eh?

What did they know about prison?

Kuroo shouldn’t have looked around, shouldn’t have spared the dangerous world a glance. Now he had to stop running, eyes caught by the immensity of the ugly truth.

Like a man with vertigo gazing down into the abyss, drawn to the source of his fears.

Below the board, a preacher on a pedestal was flailing his arms around, a holy text in his hand. Kuroo couldn’t hear him from where he stood, through the flood of cars and protesters buzzing around him. His eyes struggled to focus, struggled to read the protesters’ facial expressions. Were they angry? Was it faith that pushed them to fury, or pure hatred? Was it fear? Were they in tears, praying for the world to be a better place for humans?

Was he keeping them from living the life they deserved?

Two of them wore “ROCESTER = SAVIOUR” shirts, and another held a poster with the words “ANIMALS BELONG TO THE ZOO”.

And they weren’t booed. That was the only thing Kuroo could hear: the deafening silence of humane voices. Nothing but the honking cars, screeching tires, phone calls and traffic sounds.

But no one stopped to silence them. No one looked at the red-faced preacher with disgust or hatred, no one defended Ferals against the swarm of protesters.

It was a protest like many others, supported by the people, with a message that everyone agreed on. 

It was a protest for human rights.

Kuroo froze, legs coming to a standstill on their own, and he stared at them from his side of the street. Watching like you watch the news of a mass shooting. You look, without believing, or maybe believing so much that you cannot indulge yourself with tears.

You cannot change the outcome by dwelling in self-pity.

And you cannot hide from a shooter if you cry.

So Kuroo kept on walking. He forced his legs, forced his body to obey. He was in charge, the sailor of his own boat.

He ignored the muffled shouts of “GOD HAS DEEMED THEM UNWORTHY” and the far-away chorus of cheers.

He kept on walking, through the hazy lights of the devilish city.

Walked as if death awaited him if he stopped.

He had a home to get back to, a family to apologize to.

He had a solution to find.

Anything. 

Anything to stand on the other side of the glass.

Kenma was right. Kenma was  _ right _ .

They deserved more than a cage of concrete, more than the screams of false preachers.

They deserved a voice against oppression.

Kuroo walked faster, breath heavy with swallowed tears and adrenaline. He would convince them to stay. They could stay, they could find their way through the crowd.

It was too dangerous to escape. The entire world hated them.

The Street, the Buildings – those were the places where they could thrive as a family, as a people.

All they needed to do was to trick the outside world. Trick everyone else. They had the advantage. They had smell, they had unity. They had instinct.

They could survive in the cage.

Excitation was boiling through his veins like toxic matter. Like the joy of finding a way through the woods, any path at all, and following it with the knowledge that it could only lead to a human society. A humane one, hopefully…

Soon, Kuroo was running again. 

He missed them already. His friends, his family. Bokuto’s stupid hair, Kenma’s silent presence, Kunimi’s voiceless call for help… He missed Yaku’s household too, which he visited from time to time. Visited them a bit too much, Bokuto would argue with a sly grin that Kuroo would usually ignore. Hell, he even missed Yaku’s disapproving glares. And his rare, breathtaking beams. 

He missed them all. Even the others. All those people he had refused to talk to, as much as he could, so that they wouldn't become mutually destructive.

He had so much potentiality to explore.

The journey back seemed infinitely longer than it should have been. When finally, he took the turn to his Street, he couldn’t contain his joy. A beam spread on his lips as he took the familiar sight in. The same buildings, same people he walked by every day without even noticing them.

There was a truck, in the middle of the pedestrian road.

There was a white truck, with people in white uniforms.

There was a scent of need.

And ten times as many of fear.

There was his family, in front of his house. He could see Bokuto and Kunimi, Kenma just in front, and Konoha right behind. But he was too far away to see their faces, or the scene they were all looking at. 

Behind the truck, beyond his reach, something was happening.

He could hear sobs and screams.

A few steps and he’d see it.

A few steps- did he want to know?

A few steps.

One. 

He could pick up all the scents of the Street, or maybe was he just noticing them after the cold shower of reality. 

Two. This was beyond need and fear. This was horror in its sheerest form. The scents were suffocating, and Kuroo’s legs weakened with every step forward, his head reeling. 

The screams and sobs got louder, deafening.

Oh did he miss the silence…

Three.

There was a white truck in the middle of the grey Street, with people in white uniforms under the grey sky.

They were holding an animal control stick at the end of which cried a man.

Yuuki Shibayama, 21 years old.

Yaku’s packmate.

Omega in heat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya ~~  
> I'm here again, writing way too fast/much, and more than aware that one day I will disappear on you guys after feeding you a chapter a day for a bit XD
> 
> So, today, as you may have understood, the angst begins (well more specifically next chapter but oh well-)  
> I like studying the different perspectives on silence and curiosity between Kuroo and Bokuto, it's fun...  
> Also, have you noticed my inspirations? You've got a bit of the Handmaid's Tale, of The Promised Neverland, and of my omegaverse Hamilton fanfic, Downfall, which you can find on AO3 ;) Also, I wrote this chapter while listening to the League of Legends' version of Imagine Dragon's "Warriors", so you could count it as an inspiration. I like to imagine that the Ferals are singing the chorus ;)
> 
> OKAY SO MULTIPLE QUESTIONS POP QUIZ PEOPLE:  
> \- Oops, Shiba-chan is in trouble, what do you think will happen?  
> \- How do you think Yaku will respond to his younger packmate being hurt?  
> \- How will Kuroo respond now that his worst-case scenario has happened?
> 
> Don't forget to give me your impressions, suggestions and headcanons! Comments fuel me, and honestly I recommend that you read the comment section, as I give a lot of details in my answers :3  
> Leave a kudo too, share the fanfic in the fandom (let's make me famous- lmao no it's only if you feel like it) and kiss kiss on your cheeks ~~


	3. Horror Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world stops when a family member disappears. It doesn't, however, when you are a prisoner...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS: VIOLENCE/ hate speech/ mentions of heats/ mentions of death

Bokuto was still holding Kunimi when the world collapsed.

Bokuto was still kissing Kunimi’s jaw when Shibayama dropped his grocery bag, heat pulsating in his head, in his stomach, in his hips.

Bokuto was still whispering a thousand soothing words to Kunimi when Shibayama lacked the strength to even call for help, to rush home.

Bokuto was still releasing soft soothing pheromones when Shibayama’s body took over his control.

Bokuto was still pressing Kunimi close to his warm, gigantic heart, when another shattered. 

The world collapsed when Shibayama’s knees hit the unforgiving concrete, legs spread in helpless abandon. It hurt. His burning stomach hurt. His quivering legs hurt. The throbbing thuds against his skull hurt.

It was embarrassing. This amount of fluids oozing out of his very core, down his legs and through the thin fabric of his shorts. The whimpers and cries of his shivering body, nailed to the concrete like to a martyr’s cross.

Bokuto gazed up from his packmate’s nape, golden irises constricting into slits as the scent of wet desire spread through the air, engulfing itself in the open window. It made his grip on Kunimi’s waist tighten.

Kenma pounced towards the window, gazing down to the Street. His eyes widened, throat drying up.

“It’s Shibayama.”

Konoha blinked, slanted eyes widening softly. He could smell the unusual scent, could see his packmates’ distraught behaviours. He could see Kunimi, peeking from Bokuto’s chest, dark eyes wide with panic.

Konoha cleared his throat.

“Shiba-” 

“Yaku’s packmate. He’s in heat. We gotta go  _ now _ .”

They flew down the stairs like fugitives on a runaway. Bokuto’s pheromones were all over the place, and he kept Kunimi’s hand locked in his as they reached street level. Scents of distress, Alpha, Beta, Omega and even human, soaked the entire avenue. An ocean of bodies had swarmed towards the scene.

You could spot worried and disgusted faces alike, you could hear whispers of approval and others of pity.

All Bokuto could see was Kenma’s frozen figure. All he could smell were his hopeless pheromones.

And then he vanished.

Kenma vanished, and so did Konoha and Kunimi, and the rest of the crowd. Faceless, all of them. Those characters he once might have fallen for were gone.

There was nothing else in his world but the single character that he could not save.

Shibayama was in tears, suffocating, letting out cries of fears and whimpers of distress. 

There was a truck, on the car-less Street; cheaters, Kenma might have called them, fucking cheaters. They had taken away their vehicles so that the privilege of speed remained theirs. Taken away their freedoms to trap them better.

The truck had been faster, and had unleashed five men in white suits – uniforms similar to those of firefighters in texture and shape, but white like those of scientists. Who were those worthy of being the preachers of science?

Two of them were holding animal control sticks – long, hard, iron sticks that kept danger away. The rope loops at the end of the weapons were tightened around Shibayama’s right wrist and left elbow. The third – a large man with a square jaw, was smoking near the truck, enjoying the view while keeping the truck’s doors open. Out of the remaining two, one was in the driver’s seat, and one was observing the crowd with an assault rifle in his hands. 

“Let- go… Let go… Let- please… I’m… I’m begging… Pl...please...”

It was an unfair battle that Shibayama was losing. His own body was giving up, shivers barring him from using his muscles properly. His face scratched against the concrete, reddened with streams of tears. He wailed and tried to speak, helplessly fighting to stand, to use his legs, to ease the pain in his abused arms.

The nameless men grinned and growled, snarling at him to get to his feet, and laughing when he tripped head first – over and over, inches per inches, getting closer to the truck in a thousand useless bruises and avoidable bloodshed. 

There is no stream more inexhaustible than that of tears, and no state more unbearable than helplessness. Bokuto watched, witnessed the crime before his eyes, and there were no words that could cross his mouth. No action that he could think of.

He simply did not believe it. Shibayama – whom he knew and loved from visits with Yaku, wasn’t being dragged against the unkind concrete like a half-dead dog.

It simply was not possible.

Next to him, Kenma watched, eyes wide. There was such an expression of utter horror on his face, on those calm features of his, and such distress in his pheromones, that Bokuto felt his own terror twist his guts. Konoha seemed no better, eyes screwed on the little Omega in voiceless sorrow and denial.

Against his arm, even without looking, Koutarou could feel Kunimi’s loud heartbeat, the pressure of his tensed body against his.

And in their diagonal, a few feet away maybe, stood the picture’s very colours and sounds. Bokuto could barely handle the sight of reality made flesh. 

There was such a great difference between witnessing Shibayama’s unknown pain as no more than friends, and standing near the despair of those who were spectators to the torture of their very family.

And how could he even pretend to understand what they were going through?

He saw Lev’s eyes burning with fury and sorrow, shivers of tension running from his clenched fists to his pulsating neck. His stiff jaw betrayed his instinct to growl and bare his teeth; they were attacking an Omega of his, an Omega in heat, whom he should be protecting with his life. Next to the young Alpha, Yahaba stood, hands onto his quivering arm, barring him from approaching. He was whispering, helping his packmate remain in control of his urges, encouraging him not to out himself mindlessly. His soft chocolate eyes were themselves filled with unshed tears, and the Beta kept throwing glances at his young friend, at his sorry state and pained cries.

Just aside stood the two Omegas. The leaders of the pack, the eldest, the kindest, most caring souls that walked the Earth.

Iwaizumi’s pupils were constricted into slits, jaw just as tensed as Lev’s, fists clenched and chest heaving slowly to keep himself grounded. His breathing wheezed, struggling to pass through his dry throat.

They had been just a minute too late. They had realized the situation just a second after Shibayama’s fate was sealed. They were still in their apartment, wondering why the young Omega was taking so long, wondering why the Street was so agitated.

Just a little too far to catch the smell in time.

Yaku stood a step ahead of him. There was a stillness, a certain calmness to his body that spoke the loudest pain. The deafening silence of a broken soul, with no oxygen to waste on anything but on the figure of his youngest protege, beaten to the ground. No sound to his ears but the cries of distress he should have heard sooner, no smell to his nostrils but the heavy, sweet and acid scent of desire he should have noticed earlier – there was no  _ feeling  _ allowed but self-hatred.

Yaku was still enjoying the warmth of his home when his world collapsed – and he hadn’t been there fast enough to protect him from the rest of the universe. 

His wide, sharp eyes watched the body, took notice of every drop of blood, every scratch, every wet splotch of tears. He took notice of the unnatural stretch of his muscles.

No expression on his face, not a wrinkle of despair, not a glimmer of emotion – nothing to waste on anything but a solution to find.

On his side, Kuroo reached Bokuto, panting slightly after his run. His eyes took the scene in like a punch in the guts, almost surreal. Just like his best friend, he could hardly believe he witnessed the reality of things. He could not believe they had thrown a snake into their cage.

_ Why wouldn’t they? It’s in their power.  _

A shiver ran up his spine, yet he couldn’t tear his eyes away. His eardrums vibrated with the cries of the powerless Omega.

_ One day or another, they would have gotten fed up with our pacing around in the cage. They added a predator of their liking to track down our weaknesses. _

_ They added weapons, numbers, and a decent amount of heartlessness.  _

He gulped, a lump of thick saliva sliding down his dry throat. His eyes fluttered away in shame – shame for even thinking a cage could be safe.

He had believed himself a pretty bird in a safe house.

Yet they were assets in a freak show.

A dagger pierced through his heart, making his eyes widen and his breath catch. Sharp, unspoken, the silent words of a knowing friend. He turned to his right, seeking the source, seeking the reality behind the sudden realization that he had been misled by his own judgment.

He found it in Kenma’s piercing, unmoving gaze. So unalterably calm.

_ Do you see it now _ ?

Yes.

Clear like blood on the concrete.

“Why are they holding him like that?”

Kuroo did not hear the softly spoken words like anything more than a faint whisper. His eyes were locked with Kozume’s, his mind taking in the painful truth of his misconception. 

Kenma noticed his distress, and he broke their gaze to allow him to get back to his senses.

There was no need for more, no need for words. 

On the Street, you learn to scream without sounds.

“Why… they’re hurting him, aren’t they?”

This time, Kuroo blinked, throat dry. He turned around to watch Bokuto, heart clenching as if a giant was squeezing it in their hand. The soft Alpha’s golden eyes were screwed on the scene, translucent tears running down his cheeks. 

One at a time. Slowly.

As if they feared to break him.

Kuroo’s brain was already assaulted with Shibayama’s pheromones of distress and heat, by his pack’s terror and sorrow; but there was no scent more unbearable to him than that of his best friend’s pain. He gulped and pressed himself closer, as close as the limits of suspiciousness allowed him to, before leaning in against his ear.

“You need to stay calm, Bokuto,” he breathed out, almost surprised by the tranquillity of his own voice.

A shiver ran up Koutarou’s spine, and he snapped his head around to gaze at him. The sight of his heartbroken eyes was enough to steal a beat from Kuroo’s heart.

“But they are- Kuroo they are- can’t you see? The smell, the-”

The silver-haired Alpha’s eyes widened when his friend grabbed his face with a firm hand, efficiently trapping his jaw and covering his mouth.

There was a strange, new smell in the air, that wasn’t of distress nor pain.

It was overwhelming, and it overtook the rest for a brief instant.

A suffocating, mesmerizing scent of control.

Not violent, not terrifying to the point where you cannot speak or move.

A scent that said “You need to listen now. You need to trust me.”

A scent that whispered, “I got you.”

It made Bokuto’s eyes widen with a few more tears, but soothed his heart. It allowed him to focus. He took a sharp inhale, resting against Kuroo’s hand. The screams and sobs felt far away. The pheromones of suffering seemed weak next to his friend’s perfume.

The Pack Alpha’s scent.

Kuroo watched in slight confusion as Bokuto melted against him, and he felt his packmates tensing down behind him. He turned around, eyes widening as he realized that indeed, they were all watching him. Kunimi, Konoha, even Kenma… They watched, waited, for an order or another whiff of a scent he was not even aware of.

And he would have accepted their puzzled gazes, their expectant restlessness. He would have loved to remain the centre of their attention, to keep them from witnessing the scene in front of them. He would have kept Bokuto close, close enough never to feel him cry again.

He’d have relished in the strange atmosphere of peace that surrounded his family, had it not been for a hand on his shoulder, and a sudden presence behind his back.

“Let go of him. Tone your pheromones down. You guys too, look away. And you, stop crying.”

Sugawara removed his hand as fast as he had spoken, his voice no louder than a whisper. Kuroo watched in slight confusion as the grey-haired Beta kept a level tone and an unreadable face, standing right next to him. He hadn’t felt him approach, and no one truly did. Konoha and Kenma obliged quickly, tearing their eyes away from the Alpha to stare at the horror show in front of them. Kunimi blinked, flinching as his senses took notice of his environment again.

They were still dragging Shibayama towards the car; his knees were awfully bloodied.

Kuroo trembled, realizing a bit too late that the weird atmosphere might have been of his own making. He focused on calming down, letting go of Bokuto’s jaw. Both Alphas straightened up, facing the scene again. 

There were no tears in his friend’s eyes any longer, but Kuroo could see that he kept his chin high and his jaw stiff, obviously struggling to control his emotions.

He took a glance at the crowd, meeting a few burning gazes. Not from humans. Not from regular ones, at least.

A few feet behind Yaku’s pack stood Ushijima Wakatoshi’s. The Alpha’s gaze burned through him with no anger, nothing but attention. His Betas stood by his side, Semi Eita whispering a comment in his ear. The Alpha nodded, keeping his focus on Sugawara. Koushi reassured his leader with a discreet nod; he had the situation under control.

“Man, you need to keep it down with your marks of affection,” he mumbled, kind eyes screwed onto the scene without seeing it, “They’re obviously using the occasion to detect any strange behaviour. Keep a straight face, or cry at most. It’s a shocking sight, that’s acceptable. Avoid anger, or they’ll get suspicious. And keep an eye on your Omegas; Shibayama’s in heat, they’re hoping to detect a few overwhelmed Ferals.”

He pointed his chin towards the armed guard next to the trunk; he was probably right, this one wasn’t here just to protect the agents from a brain-washed crowd. Kuroo gulped, keeping his face as calm as possible. Sugawara’s warm scent and calm voice allowed him to remain grounded, and to distance himself from the view.

“Thank you, Suga-chan,” he breathed out, “I wasn’t… totally thinking...” 

He watched as Kenma immediately pressed Kunimi to his side, sheltering him against his embrace whether he liked it or not. Kuroo let out a soft sigh of relief upon that sight. Konoha caught his eyes for a second, expecting some sort of response or advice, and he simply nodded towards his friend. Akinori tensed down, and quickly positioned himself behind his Omegan roommates in a protective yet discreet gesture.

Suga smiled softly, keeping his eyes on the scene, “No problem, I wasn’t standing far away,” he answered, his voice completely monotonous, “Plus you were already bringing Oikawa’s fury onto yourself, so I figured I would spare everyone by helping out.”

Kuroo blinked, seeking Oikawa’s pack from the eyes. He found them to Yaku’s left: indeed, the Alpha seemed agitated, eyes narrowed into slits as he shot him a death glare. His Betas were keeping him in check. Hanamaki was more specifically talking to him, probably trying to convince him to stop twitching around. Oikawa did not seem exactly convinced, and he gritted his teeth, gazing away with contained anger.

Kuroo gulped. It was his fault everyone was agitated; how disrespectful of him to overtake the atmosphere’s rightful sorrow with his pheromones... He’d have to work on controlling them.

With a twisted stomach, he lowered his gaze to the ground.

“Sorry ‘bout that…”

“Don’t apologize,” Suga cut him, finally meeting his eyes. Oh lord, such hidden distress in his soft chocolate pupils… 

“Your mistakes are nothing compared to the pain they are inflicting on us in cold blood. I will take no apology from you until I’ve heard theirs.”

Tetsurou’s heart tightened, but he nodded. Wallowing in self-pity wouldn’t protect those he loved.

Sugawara’s burning gaze, Oikawa’s anger, Ushijima’s distant surveillance… They were all signs of a boiling resentment, a rage to fight, to stand up. They were small particles of unlimited life, like an unapologetic, unnoticeable revolt.

One of theirs was being abused under their very eyes, and they paid no mind to the intimidation.

Oh don’t misunderstand me: they were all broken to shreds. There was not a heartbeat in Sugawara’s chest that did not ache for Shibayama, not a fury in Oikawa’s mind that could match his desire to pounce on those men in white, not even a single mark of attention towards his Beta in Ushijima that meant he was not painfully aware of the small Omega’s ordeal…

Kuroo could see it, feel it in the thick air. He could see it in Daichi’s stiff jaw on the other side of the road, in Hinata’s tears, in Kindaichi’s inability to even watch… All those people whose names he knew and faces he could recognize, and yet had been like strangers to him until this very day, this very moment.

All of them, unable to comprehend this painful, oh so painfully tangible reality they were facing.

There was a crying child on that concrete road, and they would have protected him with all their strength had they been given the chance to.

Kuroo took a furtive glance around: Kenma, Kunimi and Konoha were still supporting each other, in that discreetly affectionate manner that would have made his heart leap on any other day, but as of now felt so terribly heartbreaking. Bokuto’s muscles were twitching, and his golden eyes shone in an almost animalistic shimmer that thankfully indicated he was controlling himself.

Kuroo couldn’t help but worry about his roommates, about any gesture they could make that would sign their death warrant. However, no one seemed to have noticed the tense agitation of the Feral packs.

He thus gulped, and, at last, focused on the scene.

His heart clenched upon seeing one of the two agents tugging violently on the stick, pulling Shibayama’s arm backwards. The young omega screamed in pain, and Kuroo trembled.

What did they see in him that was so frightening? What was a heat but a messy and endearing period of needs for cuddles and affection? What right did they have to take advantage of his vulnerability to fill his mind with fear and pain?

“Get in the truck, get in the fucking truck...” the guard growled while his colleague desperately tried to lift the Omega up into the trunk, using his feet to avoid touching him to a maximum.

“Stop… Stop please- pleASE NO  _ PLEASE” _

At last, they pushed him in, not even bothering to close the doors as they took a moment to recover from the effort. Kuroo bit his tongue, shaking with fury. He could feel Bokuto tensing up next to him. Could smell a dozen Ferals’ wrath from where he stood.

And out of all of these so-called monsters, not a single Alpha lost their mind over the spreading scent of heat.

Not a  _ single _ one.

Kuroo watched as the square-jawed man finally walked forward, the two others saluting him on his passage. He had the rough, heavy steps of a military man, and the Alpha could not help but frown: this was no good.

He heard Sugawara groaning lowly, the anger in his voice sending shivers down his spine.

“Here’s the scavenger, having his fun after the kill...”

Kuroo tried to ignore his comment. But the question took over his mind faster than he would have expected: what was there to scavenge? What was the point of this painful show?

“Greetings, good morning to you, dear and youthful citizens. You probably don’t know me, but there is not much you need to know anyway. The day has been… eventful, as you can see, so I’ll be brief, so that you can get back to your occupations. I am Commander Arhiman, and I am in charge of the Feral Control Center squads of the Eastern Observation Area of Tokyo. To make it short, I am under the direct orders of Doctor Rocester, the world nations’ saviour.” 

Kuroo felt his blood turn cold, and judging by the sudden shift of pheromones in the air, so did the others.

Arhiman continued with a smug grin.

“Firstly, I would like to address the matter that is probably causing you a lot of concern: unlike all appearances, Control Centers like the one I work for are  _ not _ hidden from the public. They are simply rarely mentioned - and I won’t develop on their role for it is classified. This secrecy allows us to ensure that Ferals do not suspect our actions. Our aim is not to manipulate you into thinking you were not being observed, but rather to  _ wait  _ until you were ready to accept those centers’ crucial necessity. Usually, Commanders like me wait until one Feral is discovered in a specific Area before making ourselves known. After all, where there is a Feral, there are more than one. In short, we are the  _ Eyes _ of Rocester, if you will. We intervene to get you rid of the nuisance, and we take it away to the Center so that it can be examined. Fairly simple, right?”

At this point, Kuroo stopped listening. He had no interest in losing his mind over the twisted truth: they were being observed, that was all there was to remember. And now that these monsters had concrete evidence that there were some Ferals in their Street, the “guards” would freely turn their lives into nightmares. 

It made him sick to his stomach. It made him want to scream.

His eyes fell onto the truck. Shibayama had to be so scared, trapped inside, with no path to the outside world but the door that had been left open. He was a scared beast, to them, a freak to show off. 

Look at us! Look at the monster! Look at how strong we are, controlling him without even closing the doors!

The Alpha gazed away, ignoring the Commander’s speech on citizenship, on duty and honour. He’d heard the song, knew it by heart. Hearing him talk about freedom in the language of oppression was as hypocritical as a billionaire talking about collective effort. 

His eyes fell onto Yaku, and his heart clenched.

His perfect facade of marble was crumbling slowly, iron pupils melting into burning despair. His chest was heaving irregularly as it hit him that his packmate was in the truck now. The truck that would leave, take him away, away from the safety of his arms.

There was a tension in the air, and Kuroo realized it was all about Yaku.

All the other packs kept a discreet eye on the small Omega, watchful of his growing distress.

He was a timed bomb. A potential danger to himself and to others.

Iwaizumi took a step forward, pressing a tensed hand to his shoulder. His green eyes scanned his roommate with affectionate wariness and sorrow. 

Keep him grounded. He had to keep him grounded.

One mistake and they could all go down.

Kuroo waited for Yaku’s reaction, hoping to see his eyes shine with a bit more reason, sense, stability. But a cry took his attention away.

His heart exploded into a million pieces as Shibayama tried to crawl down the truck, the two guards immediately latching onto him, pushing him back. Despair made the boy fight harder, his tear-soaked face reddened with emotion.

“NO, LET GO LET GO  _ HELP” _

Kuroo could see Yaku shaking by now.

Tears were streaming down his soft face.

“Get him back in the truck,” Arhiman growled, visibly annoyed.

But Shibayama fought harder.

“HELP HELP ME HELP PLEASE  _ HELP ME” _

It was a thing to distance yourself from a scene of violence, from cries that were not calling for you.

It was another to have your youngest protege staring right into your eyes, and begging in a sob-broken voice. 

“YAKU.  _ HELP ME.” _

Iwaizumi couldn’t have stopped him if he tried. And he did try.

When Yaku escaped his hold to jump forward, he gasped. He saw his world shattering a second time, and prepared himself to run after him; grab him and keep him close so as not to lose another member of his family.

However, strong arms wrapped around his body, pressing him to a solid chest. Fresh mint replaced the suffocating scent of bitterness and horror, and drowned him in firm affection.

His eyes widened as he saw Yaku getting further and further away, out of reach. 

A low, soft voice spoke in the crook of his neck, filling his eyes with tears.

“It’s too late, Iwaizumi...”

Oikawa’s words crushed him to pieces, and he leaned into his calm embrace for support. 

He was right. Yaku was far away now. Too far to be saved.

And even if Iwaizumi had been faster, he wouldn’t have been able to catch him; because Shibayama had called for  _ him _ , him specifically.

Had Morisuke not pounced forward, he would have roused suspicions anyway; he would have been a danger to the rest of them.

Was Yaku aware of that fact? Did he know it was too late for him from the moment Shibayama called his name? Had he used this knowledge as an excuse to rush after his younger friend, no matter the consequences?

Probably not. The others’ safety did not matter to him, at the moment. The others did not matter at all.

Yaku had jumped not because he had been discovered, not because he was doomed, but because Shibayama had called his name. That was all he needed.

Kuroo’s eyes widened, and something within him shattered. He couldn’t tell whether it was his heart, or a more primal form of instinct, but something shattered, and sank into the pit of his stomach like a boulder. He saw himself on the highest point of a rollercoaster, about to dive into an abyss; and what was left of his heart exploded under the pressure of the fall when Yaku fell to his knees in front of Arhiman, shaking.

“Take me. Take me with him.” he begged, voice raw with tears, “I’m an Omega. I’m an Omega, I’m his friend, I promise I’m not lying. Please take me with you.”

He kept his amber eyes locked with his, wide and sharp, pleading. His voice betrayed an emotion that his burning gaze hid under a fire of duty and love.

Arhiman took a step back, turning to the two guards. One of them held Shibayama still, and the other approached. Yuuki let out a soft whimper in stress, watching Yaku with both horror and relief.

The world held its breath, Ferals and humans alike. The former because their lives were crumbling to pieces. The latter because their society was getting back in order.

Arhiman walked back towards the truck, apparently unbothered.

He did not need proof. This was all part of the plan. Let the Ferals reveal themselves, intentionally or not.

The guard was standing next to Yaku now. 

Such a fierce, broken light in his hazel eyes.

The monster raised his control stick, but did not tie it around the young man’s offered wrists. 

Instead, he slammed it back down.

Hard and fast.

Swung it so that it struck the side of Yaku’s head, throwing him to the ground.

Iwaizumi lost his breath, Oikawa’s grip loosened around him. 

Kuroo took a step back, legs weak.

The entire world went silent.

Only Yaku’s ears were ringing, a high-pitched sound that made his brain reel. Each pump of blood in his veins felt like his entire circulatory system was about to explode.

It was all thudding, all flashing.

He could hardly breathe.

Kuroo’s heart pulsed madly in his chest, and Shibayama let out a scream, legs giving up on him. 

The guard took the opportunity to throw him back into the trunk, merciless.

The other one dragged Yaku onto the concrete, holding him by his hair - by his very hair, and his shirt.

He was bleeding.

Kuroo was pretty sure he was bleeding.

Soon, they threw Yaku in the truck, leaving him barely conscious next to Shibayama. The poor boy was crying, crawling towards his friend and calling his name.

The guards followed inside, sitting on each side of the vehicle’s parallel benches.They were grinning, watching the two prisoners with proud amusement.

Arhiman stayed outside, smiling calmly to the crowd. Cold-blooded, heart of ice of his…

It seemed like the world had slowed down, and the air thickened. The sky was red, or at least it felt like it was. An omen of disaster. 

“See, how dangerous those creatures are? How unpredictable and pathetic they can be?”

_ Shut up. _

Kuroo felt a lump in his throat.

_ Move _ .

He had to do something.

“Alphas or Omegas, even Betas, it doesn’t matter: they are all dangers, all unfit for life on Earth as  _ human _ beings.”

_ Shut the fuck up. _

The entire world. An entire world coming to a standstill.

Weeping a foolish friend and his sobbing protege.

“You have a right to be scared. To think that being locked in here with those disgusting creatures is intolerable. But understand that this is our greatest chance at discovering them efficiently, so that for the rest of your lives you are never to fear seeing them again. And to that intent, my squads will protect you.”

_ Shut it shut it shut it _

An entire world in tears.

An entire world. The entire Street at least, stunned into silence. Even the pheromones seemed to have disappeared. It was beyond them, this violence, this sorrow. Beyond understanding.

Kuroo watched as Arhiman took his final bow, and together with the armed guard, they climbed into the truck.

Silence. Nothing but infinite silence and mourning. Kuroo felt his own heart coming to a speechless silence. What kind souls these men were taking away…

A young boy full of enthusiasm, whom he saw and joked with whenever he visited Yaku. Always smiling. Always sincere.

A protective little demon, as rude and violent as a man twice his size, but with a heart of pure gold.

Leaving behind a family. Taking hope away with them.

And all that was left was silence.

Until the first clap.

And the second.

Kuroo barely heard them at first, barely believed them real. Imagination and its tricks, that was all…

Then the third, and fourth.

A scream - a cheer.

And a thunder of applause.

It left them stunned, eyes wide. All the Ferals, of any gender and any crime, they remained speechless as the humans started clapping, cheering, yelling in victory.

A requiem of smiles and triumph.

“THANK YOU”

“GET THE JOB DONE”

“TAKE THEM WHERE THEY BELONG”

“THANK YOU”

Thank you? For what? Did you see what I saw? Have we watched the same scene? Those tears, that blood, can’t you smell them in the air?

What are they accused of? Where’s the lawyer, where’s the judge?

What’s the crime?

What is wrong with you people? 

You saw a kid folded in two on the street, and you did not bother helping him. You heard his tears and whimpers, but you feared his moans.

You saw a friend, a young man with an entire future in front of him, falling to his knees and begging to be taken away. Begging for a spot near the frightened boy. Begging for a shot at drying his tears. And you saw him knocked to the ground like an undisciplined dog. You saw sincerity and honesty, both trampled and dragged by the scalp, and you smiled.

You saw it all just like I see you, and yet you cheer?

What are you thanking them for? Freeing you? What do you know about shackles? 

What’s making you think you’ll gain more freedom by locking others up?

Kuroo shivered and gazed around in utter disbelief, a sinking feeling of despair taking over his muscles. He could watch without seeing them, all those faces, all those smiling men.

The real monsters did not even bother hiding their identities.

There was a song in the air called Joy, and for a long time he thought he knew its lyrics. Now it simply felt foreign to him. He had never heard it in his life.

He couldn’t move, couldn’t take a look around. He knew what he’d see. 

He’d see Kenma’s wide eyes, Kunimi’s trembling lips. He’d see Konoha gazing away, a hand covering his mouth. Or Bokuto, shaking, tears streaming down his face, and Sugawara, stone-cold expression betrayed by the awful glimmer of sorrow in his eyes.

And a bit further, just a bit further, there would be Iwaizumi, plagued by the loss of two of his family members, eyes dripping with tears. He’d be resting against Oikawa’s chest not to fall, not to give up.

Oikawa’s gaze would be boiling with anger.

All of them. His friends would all be devastated beyond words. Every Feral was grieving already, grieving those two friends that were still so close, in that truck, alive, reachable.

So whatever sight Kuroo would witness when glancing around, he knew it would be one of despair.

And that was he believed.

Until the first clap.

And the second.

His eyes slowly turned, turned to his right, turned to the close, close figure of his close, close friend. He couldn’t believe it, couldn’t comprehend it.

His friend - Kenma, his friend that was clapping along, along and fast, faster and faster, fast enough to catch up to the crowd’s rhythm. He couldn’t believe it.

His eyes went wide, and Kenma’s cold gaze met his.

_ Do you see it now _ ?

Blood on the concrete where the young man was hit.

That was what he saw.

That was all there was to it, all that mattered, so Kenma why are you-

_ You don’t get to choose. _

That was what this gaze said.

You don’t get to choose when you live in a cage. Feeding time, sleeping time, showtime.

In the circus, tigers and lions are bound to perform.

If you don’t perform, you get noticed. You get punished.

You get taken away.

So you keep your claws in, you raise your hands, and you clap along.

Should it be Sugawara, to his right… 

“THANK YOU”

Or Daichi, across the street…

“GOOD JOB”

Even Tendou, a bit further... 

“KEEP IT UP”

Or Bokuto.

Sweet, hopeful Bokuto.

With a broken voice.

“DEATH TO THE BEASTS”

And on they applauded, they cheered. All in despair, not an ounce of sincerity. Forcing themselves, forcing their peers. Just like Oikawa, helping his lover raise his hands up to clap along – a maestro guiding a lost artist through the symphony.

Putting all their rage and despair in their screams, hiding that horror under a mask of joy.

Congratulating the tamer like tigers trained to give their paw. 

You don’t get to show your fangs.

You don’t get to flee.

You just perform.

Kuroo followed along like a dancer in a music box, like a broken record. 

It was too noisy again. How he missed the silence… 

Through the tuneless symphony of his friends applauding a massacre, arms articulated by puppet strings, he saw the truck waking up like a sleeping beast, ready to swallow his entire world and take it away.

He saw them. 

He saw Yaku, barely conscious in the back of the truck as it slowly drove away, clinging to Shibayama with every bit of strength he still had. Protecting him, as promised. Keeping him so close to his chest, so safe there, for this last journey, against this new world.

That was the only thing he could do. The only thing he had to do. For his friends, for Shibayama, for himself.

Hope. 

In his eyes, in his embrace, in his very presence against the frightened boy.

Yaku was the last picture Kuroo saw of their lost friends, and he called it hope. And it was their only option. There was no other alternative for Morisuke but to jump in with his packmate, just like there was no other option for the river but to flow.

There is nothing more untameable than a raised chin despite the dagger on your throat, and of that flickering fire, hope was the most resilient spark.

They shut the doors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO this is turning out pretty dark, isn't it?
> 
> Quick Quiz:  
> \- how do you feel about Yakkun's reaction?  
> \- would you be able to pretend like they did? would you be able to cheer?
> 
> This chapter, we have Iwaizumi and Oikawa standing out as a power couple. Sadly, those poor babies are not in the same pack (not enough space in the apartments, so they had to register for different ones. They are still childhood friends though)
> 
> GUESS WHO'S COMING NEXT CHAPTER? KING AKAASHI IS MAKING AN ENTRANCE (I've heard you guys were waiting for him (cause Bokuaka lmao), but he's in the main ship so duh he had to make himself desired)
> 
> What do you think will happen next? How will Iwa-chan respond?  
> How will Yaku and Shiba-chan be treated?
> 
> We'll see that next week!  
> Don't forget to comment, and give me your headcanons!  
> Thank you for reading and see y'all!


	4. Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo receives some help to accept his situation. Yaku wakes up at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: mentions of prostitution, mentions of violence, mentions of dubious consent

“I can still hear the screams.”

Who did not? Who could even sleep at night without picturing Shibayama bathing in his own slick, or the deafening sound of the control stick slammed against Yaku’s head?

Kuroo would love to meet that dreamed person that could pretend the world was still as beautiful as it had ever been. He’d have so many questions for them.

How can I ever sleep again?

How can I get rid of my emotions, at night, and pause the endless spin of a world blown out of orbit?

The only people that seemed able to smile and pretend were those who could genuinely go on with their lives: they were humans, and Kuroo would not talk to them for a thousand stars.

He did not move when Tendou spoke, nor did he answer; he had heard him coming, had smelled his bubble gum undertones from afar. 

He gazed back just to see the red-haired Beta slouching next to him on the bench, sighing in relief.

“You did not choose the nearest park to have your emotional crisis in...” he chuckled, dark red pupils glimmering as he side-eyed the Alpha, “Had to track you down like a hunter… It was fun though, so I don’t hold it against you~”

Kuroo watched him calmly, unsure of how to respond. He’d opted for the park for his morning run, hoping not to be bothered by any of his peers. It was a good one-hour jog away from the Street after all, so he should have managed to be left alone…

Keyword: should.

He tore his eyes away from the strawberry-scented Beta, enjoying the cold warmth of the sunny autumn day. Last peaceful goodbye from the sun, surely… Soon, the world would be but humid coldness and shade.

Yet he couldn’t close his eyes to enjoy the sensation, for any second spent in darkness allowed a cool draft to slap his face, blowing in the trees in screams he’d rather not hear again. 

The Alpha sat up under his companion’s curious gaze, and wrung his hands together in an unconscious effort to soothe his heart. 

“Why did you follow me?” he breathed out, eyes screwed on his shadow on the ground. He wished he could merge with the soil too, disappear whenever the days got darker, colder.

He wished he could disappear.

Kuroo felt the red-haired Beta grinning next to him, hands buried into a purple hoodie that probably wasn’t his, judging by the scent of coffee that contrasted with his bubbly perfume. 

The Alpha couldn’t tell whether this man looked completely innocent or terribly mischievous. 

“Why why, you _can_ talk~~” the other man cooed, immediately taking his answer as an invitation to invade his personal space, “Suga-chan had told me he had exchanged more than a few sentences with you, but I was going to start doubting his word.”

A shiver ran up Kuroo’ spine at the mention of his discussion with Sugawara. He had not spoken to him since that day. Since that moment they had stood side by side, witnessing their friends’ despair in powerless horror.

The Alpha must have tensed up, or maybe was it his shiver that had betrayed him, for Tendou’ scent turned incredibly sweet within a few seconds. The perfume caught up in Kuroo’s throat, and he had to gaze away.

Had he done that purpose? Had he willingly shifted his pheromone emission to soothe him?

“Hey... relax, will ya?”

His voice had dropped too, as if dipped in honey. Kuroo could feel his thigh against his, and soon enough, his warm breath in his neck. It made him feel dizzy, and ashamed. How could he even relish in such animalistic soothing methods?

“I did not come here to bother you, Kuroo…” the Beta continued, before chuckling “Come on, you emit more pheromones than that little Yamaguchi from Building 5!”

Kuroo shivered, suddenly realizing he had not controlled himself at all. He reeked of distress, which, in Alphas, took the perfume of an acrid, citrusy scent. He gulped and focused on calming his glands down, if not his mind.

“Sorry about that...” he grumbled, before letting a long sigh out, “You’re lucky the park is empty. I would have had to slap you into shutting up...” he added with a groan, throwing him a burning glare.

The Beta chuckled and scratched his nape, “Well, you know, I’m something of a smart man myself...”

Being aware of his own distress allowed Kuroo to tense down, and even chuckle a little. His own instincts and pheromones had been worsening his dwelling without him even noticing.

They both fell into a comfortable silence, watching their surroundings.

The mostly empty park offered them a break, a moment of peace in time. For a few minutes, Kuroo had even thought about not going back.

They’d have found him, after a few hours, maybe a day. They always check that the curfew is respected, going from apartment to apartment starting from 8pm. So they would have found him, taken him away, and for a fleeting instant, he had thought that it would not be so bad, to be taken away.

Maybe he’d have been able to see Yaku’ soft face again.

His heart clenched tightly, and he swallowed down the idea once again. He had to stay, for the sake of his family.

His pack, as Kenma would call it.

Kuroo felt Tendou twitch beside him, and his eyes fell onto the other man. He was holding his own arms, rubbing them to protect them from the wind. Surely the sun wasn’t enough for the Beta to feel warm… Kuroo had always a handled coldness better than most people.

He gulped, trying to ignore him. If Tendou wasn’t saying anything despite being cold, it could only mean that he had something to say before leaving. Something that required his patience and self-sacrifice to the harsh weather... 

Long minutes went by, and the two men did not speak a single word. Kuroo wished Tendou would just leave… Just leave… 

He enjoyed the male’s presence, but the unspoken tension was nibbling at his already mistreated nerves. He was at peace here. He just needed to ignore the rest for a few more minutes...

“Oikawa wants to hold a meeting in his apartment. The Pack Alphas are invited, as well as a few others. They’re expecting you too.”

Tendou’s voice had almost dropped an octave. 

Dropped like Kuroo’s heart, which sank down under the ground instead of shattering at its surface. Lucky heart…

Tendou had not moved. He remained aloof, casual, as if he had not just mentioned the most dangerous idea Kuroo had heard in years. And Satori was probably aware that he had thrown a bomb into their conversation, for he could almost taste the bubble gum on his tongue from how much the Beta was trying to sugar coat it all... 

An Alpha meeting at Oikawa’s house could only end in a fight and screams, or in a shower of pheromones. Worst outcome, they alerted the authorities and were discovered, or even triggered their own ruts. In any case, this was a dangerous initiative… 

“Didn’t know Mister Territorial-Asshole could accept to have other Alphas over...” Kuroo groaned, trying to cover his stress with mockery, “Last time I checked he was throwing death glares at me for comforting one of my friends when...” 

He bit his lip, bit it until it to blood.

When Shibayama and Yaku were being taken away, and Bokuto had a mental breakdown.

When the world collapsed.

Three days ago.

Tendou’s bubble gum scent got spiked for a split second. There was not a Feral on the Street that did not carry the emotional burden of the events, of the cries and the hits, the cheers that followed the horror show’s finale.

No one spoke of it. Not even the humans.

There was this constant state of hesitation on the Street now, as if everyone knew Damocles’ sword hung down from the sky. Speak of it, and you might get suspected. Get too close to others and you might get abducted.

But Kuroo was not dumb, nor was he naive. Humans did not stop speaking of it because they were scared, or filled with remorse and doubt.

Humans avoided the matter because their interest had died down with the departure of the Control Center car, with the lack of exciting events over the last few days. They had expected a snowball effect made for their very amusement; dozens of Feral discoveries in a row, maybe a mating on the road, to spice their dull lives up.

Yet nothing came. And so Humans stopped speaking of it. 

For Ferals, keeping quiet was a far more precious quality.

It was a necessity. It was the knowledge that _they_ could be watching, listening, and that they could have been doing so for long now. Finding evidence, collecting information, patterns, conversations…

So safety had to come first, with discretion as its key term.

“Well,” Satori sighed, “He does have two other Alphas in his pack, but that’s beside the point-”

“No it’s not. It _is_ the point,” Kuroo snarled under his breath, fighting the desire to bare his teeth at him, “Alphas. The “pack leaders” you mentioned, they’re all Alphas. Alphas pounce, Alphas growl, Alphas bark. Put us all in a confined place and we’ll end up as agitated as a gas under pressure!”

Tendou watched him with wide confused eyes, smiling nervously. Surely the analogy had surprised him… 

“Oh but I’ll be there too! Suga-chan and Semi-Semi too probably… There won’t be just Alphas in there! If you want to bring the little pudding head, you can too!”

Kuroo wished he could be free to snap at him. To pour his heart out, maybe punch that grin off his lips. He wished he could do that and get out of it with only a visit to the police station.

Maybe a sanction, a bit of prison. Who knew and who cared? Any place would be better than this fake freedom.

He’d accept shackles as long as he could wear them as a human being.

“Sure, let’s bring an _Omega_ in a room filled with stressed Alphas,” he seethed through gritted teeth. 

His eyes were burning like flames, his overwhelming scent oozing off of him in waves, “If not a rut, let’s trigger a heat, and let’s see who gets to go down on him first…”

He had spoken too fast. He regretted his words already. Oh how stupid could he be at times…

How could he say such things? About Kenma? About Tendou’s friends? About Alphas?

The bubble gum scent turned bitter, like a rotten, tasteless strawberry. 

“You know,” he simply said, “Hinata tried to talk to you yesterday. Told me you had ignored him. Maybe it’s better that I was the one facing you in the end...”

His voice had turned so dry, so cold, and the soft red eyes had taken blood-like shades of fury.

Kuroo couldn’t refrain a scowl. He gazed away, clenching his fists. Oh he was bad at controlling his pheromones, and it seemed like he was not any better at keeping his emotions in check...

He had seen Hinata, the previous day. Had seen the glimmer in his eyes as the ginger head had spotted him. Kuroo had not been able to face him, nor to even spare a glance in his direction.

He had turned around, back to his house, away from those hopeful, determined eyes.

He wasn’t like Hinata. He wasn’t like Yaku.

He could not hope for the life of him. 

He refused to. 

When the truck drove away, Kuroo had shut down the feeling, the shy, burning ache that had threatened to course through his veins.

Yaku had protected his family with everything he had, and now Kuroo had to do the same. The only hope he could afford was to keep Kunimi, Kenma, Konoha and Bokuto safe. The only hope Yaku could afford was to keep Shibayama in his arms for as long as possible.

They only needed a spark, not an entire inferno.

Those who focus on lighting a world on fire cannot hope to save their house from the flames.

Tendou stood up, once again shaken by a shiver. Kuroo felt his throat dry up with shame and apologies he could not utter. The Beta turned around, towering over him. 

There was absolutely pained anger to his gaze that had Kuroo shrinking even more in his seat.

“You know, Kuroo, I’d have expected a little more of you. Maybe not your full adhesion to the cause, maybe not your enthusiasm, but a little more.” 

He sighed, keeping his hands buried in his hoodie as he gazed around. His eyes fell upon him again, like a hammer, “You looked like all the fires of hell were burning inside your chest when they took Yaku and Shiba-chan away. Even Suga-chan told me he’d felt your presence next to him as a crushing force of willpower and desire to protect.”

Of course. Of course he’d been ready to fight on that day… His pheromones were all over the place, the shock was so great and… _damnit_ those were his friends that had been dragged on the concrete and into a cage!

“We all wished to intervene,” Kuroo managed to croak, unable to look him in the eyes, “Shibayama was in heat, Yaku’s wounded body emitted distress signals-”

“Now, you are starting to speak like _them_ , Kuroo,” Tendou snapped, leaning in to stand an inch away from his face. 

He was baring his teeth. The sight took Kuroo’s breath away, until his own pheromones rose in response, defensive, threatening.

And the words.

The words punched him in the guts, making him lose his cool.

_A Beta is challenging you_.

No he isn’t. This isn’t a challenge.

He is right.

What am I saying?

How can I say such things?

_A Beta stands in your way._

Kuroo’s breath caught in his throat, and he let out a low, choked yowl. With great effort, he turned his head aside, trying to control his instincts, keeping his lips from baring his teeth.

Tendou was so close, so unapologetically close. 

He could feel his own pulse rushing under the assault of the defying pheromones, yet he fought.

Fought to keep a level head, fought to breathe underwater.

Tendou’s eyes flickered as Kuroo let out the throaty sound, and he watched him offering his neck with a certain satisfaction. _Offering_ was a big word. But at least, he wasn’t being aggressive.

“My, my, who knew I could manage to make Kuroo Tetsurou yowl~” he purred, straightening up to give the Alpha some space.

Kuroo shivered, gazing back to him with furious eyes as soon as he had some room to think and breathe without being assaulted by the bubble gum scent, “What was that?” he growled, reaching for his own throat as he realised he had not been able to hold back the bestial sound.

“That? It was a way to provide you with some evidence,” Tendou grinned, shaking his head, “See how you yowled? How you exposed your neck despite me being disrespectful and threatening? Those are signs that you are wrong~”

The Alpha gazed up, wringing his hands together again. He was not following… He could not get where the strange Beta was going…

Tendou crouched, resting his elbows on his knees as he pointed a finger in his direction.

“You, my dear Kuroo, have shown signs of _control_. You yowled in frustration and stress, which is – let’s be honest, a very un-Alpha-like sound. Then you turned your head instead of accepting my challenge, thus ignoring your instincts _and_ offering the most sensitive and fragile part of your anatomy to my merciless fangs: your neck.”

His eyes flashed with a dark, amused light, “Had I wanted to mark you up, I could have done so very easily~”

Kuroo tensed up, turning to him with all the confusion and horror in the world painted on his face.

He was right. He’d had been reckless… and yet he had controlled himself.

He had refused to take the challenge, he’d fought the desire to pounce.

But those meant nothing, right? Any human on Earth could fight those desires, because they did not _have_ them. No matter how controlled he had been, he would always dance on the edge of a blade. Alphas would always be defensive and driven by instinct. Omegas would always be at the mercy of their own heats and biological drive for submission. Betas would always bear the glands and pheromones that took away their humanity.

His self-control meant nothing.

He could never change himself.

Tendou seemed to notice the distress in his eyes, and he let out a soft sigh. He reached out and pressed a hand to Kuroo’s cheek, making the other jolt a little.

“Ten-Tendou...”

“Listen, Kuroo-kun. There’s nothing we can do beside standing up for one another. I am telling you – and I speak with no doubt at all, that us Ferals are more than creatures driven by deep, unstoppable sexual instincts. I am telling you that we are worthy, and that we need to find a way to prove it to the world.”

He smiled calmly, a certain playfulness glimmering in his eyes that made Kuroo’s heart tighten, “We stood strong and cold-hearted on the day they took two of our friends away. Not an Alpha moved a muscle. Not an Omega had their heats triggered – and I saw for myself how your little Kunimi twitched, and how your pudding head trapped his nose against his chest for him to focus on another scent than Shibayama’s. I saw how you calmed your golden-eyed packmate in a single whiff of your scent. I saw Alphas, Betas, Omegas alike swallowing their instincts and fears to protect those they loved.”

Kuroo shivered, shaking his head. He had not seen Kenma and Kunimi doing… He had not seen them… Had they…

Had they really..?

Tendou smiled brighter, “Deny it all you want, Kuroo. If anything, you saw Yaku-chan’s reaction as well as I saw it. You _know_ he did not jump in out of instinct alone.”

The Alpha shut his eyes close, clenching his hands together.

He knew.

He knew it all too well.

There was nothing that could stop Yaku from standing up for those he loved.

Not even his height. Not even death.

“Yet, I can see that all the words in the world will not change your mindset until you actually see it for yourself...” Tendou sighed and stood up under Kuroo’s confused gaze.

“Until I see what?”

Satori smiled, shaking his head, “Until you see that we already are one single, beautiful, strong, amazing family, Kuroo-kun.”

The words took the Alpha by surprise, and his mouth gaped uselessly, stumbling on a counter-argument he could not even find.

A family? All of them? He did not even know half of those people!

And yet…

Yet, he did mourn Shibayama. With all his heart. He did feel his heartbreak for Iwaizumi, alone, in tears, standing in the middle of a Street that cheered for the suffering of his two closest friends. He did feel infinite gratitude for Oikawa, who grabbed him, kept him up, helped him clap along. For Sugawara, who immediately approached his household to give them advice, to guide him into keeping his calm. 

And he barely knew them.

He barely knew them, barely knew their names.

But he knew their scents.

Their scents were everywhere. On the Street, in the supermarket, in the laundromat.

They were everywhere, and thus, they were familiar.

Family. 

All of them.

Before he could answer at last, before he could translate into words the sudden realization in his eyes, the renewed hope, Tendou grinned.

“Come. Tomorrow at 9 AM, Building 7, Apartment 1. Bring anyone who can be of use.”

He leaned in to face the speechless man, pressing a teasing, protective kiss to his forehead.

“And bring that smile of yours with you.”

*****

Heavy.

Yaku felt heavy.

The kind of heavy you are never supposed to feel in your life.

He was Nishinoya’ size, and yet he felt like he weighed twice Lev’s body. No… No actually Lev was a twig, he probably wasn’t that heavy. Matsukawa would be more representative, or maybe Bokuto…

Oh. 

Ushijima. He felt like his weight was worth two Ushijimas Wakatoshi. Or, like two Ushijimas Wakatoshi were laying on top of him.

Or one Ushijima… and one Kuroo. Yes, one Ushijima and one Kuroo, that sounded right.

But the thing was, he wouldn’t mind having them on top of him. Would not mind at all.

The problem was that, despite feeling their weights, they were not actually around at the moment. And more specifically, he did not feel their mass _on top_ of him – as all things should be if he was a lucky Omega, but rather _within_ him.

There again, this wouldn’t have been a problem in any other case – or rather in a specific one, to be honest. But there was a great difference between having someone inside your consenting body and having the sensation of sharing your body with two other giants. 

He could literally feel his veins about to explode like highly pressurised balloons, and when they would, the show would not be pretty to watch. 

Yaku’s body had been useless, properly speaking, for three days now. The soldiers – or whatever they were called, had brought him into a sort of cold, greyish cell, had laid him down on a mattress, and he had not moved since. 

His entire muscular system was stiff, and every movement tore a groan from his lips. His neck and jaw hurt in particular, and at this point he was more than willing to be guillotined if that could spare him more suffering.

Three whole days and nights were a long span of time when you were alone in a small cell, and when you could not even move. A doctor came in to check on him once a day, but other than that and the two feeding times, he had not had much contact with the rest of the staff. 

So he was focusing on the ceiling. In the position he was in, he could see it clearly, and it was much less painful to lay still than to try and roam around the room. He had not showered in days, barely moved for anything else than for using the small restroom he had been provided with.

The ceiling was an anchor point. When he stared and focused hard enough, he could see Shibayama. He could see his smiles, and his laugh, and everything that made him such a boisterous, kind young man.

Watching that fake movie, Yaku was able to keep himself calm. He was able to control the furious instincts that boiled in his chest.

_Where is he? Where is my packmate? Where is the Omega?_

He did not know. He had passed out on his lap, in the truck, and when he had woken up, he was laying on the damp, cold bed, facing the ceiling. Locked in that miserable cell, with nothing but a bed and a toilet, no window, ashy walls of concrete, and metal bars that separated him from the long, empty corridor from which they brought food and medication.

He was a dog in a shelter, waiting to be put down.

The pain of knowing he had been separated from Shibayama, the unbearable knowledge that his soft friend was in heat, in tremendous distress, was enough to make him feel sick again. A bead of sweat rolled down his matted hairline to his temple, and he let out a wheezy breath; it was too cold, and that light blue uniform he had been given was absolutely shitty. He was probably running a fever by now.

Fuck, he _was_ running a fever. His head had been so painful for days he had not realized how sweaty and cold he suddenly felt. 

Were tall people so easily sick too? Or maybe was it just because he had been hit on the head? 

Yeah, it had to be that…

_Still_ , this was _not_ the moment…

A low whimper escaped his throat, a keening, animalistic sound he could not refrain.

Through his hazy thoughts, he was almost sure he heard the door opening.

Ah, was it time for the medicine? It felt a bit early…

Oh well, he would not say no to some pills, so he would not complain.

“I… I don’t feel good...” 

The sound that came out of his mouth was absolutely pathetic, and he hated himself for it. He could barely move.

And Lord, what if that was his chance to escape?

Maybe if he managed to move his arms-

“Fuck...” 

That was not happening.

The Omega shivered as he felt soft hands trailing over his chest, getting him rid of his soaked shirt. He gulped, trying to focus on the intruder. Tears of fever barred him from taking a proper look, but he did recognize that this was not the doctor. Nor anyone he had seen before.

This person had jet black hair, and Yaku immediately felt safe in their careful touch.

Soon, he was completely undressed, and the gentle figure carried him to the centre of the room. Yaku gasped as he was laid down into some sort of large basin, filled to the brim with warm water. His muscles immediately unclenched, and he let out a long sigh of relief.

The black-haired stranger applied a cooling patch on his forehead, before tilting his head back. A low whine escaped his lips as his painful neck was so suddenly exposed.

“Drink this.”

Such a soothing voice, like velvet.

A pill was pressed to his lips by long, slender fingers, as well as a glass of fresh water. Yaku swallowed them both avidly, shivering in relief.

Whoever that person was, they were his saviour…

The intruder knelt behind him, and the Omega felt them rub soothing circles onto his back with a soapy gloved hand. He gasped in ease, marvelling into the stranger’s ability to make his muscles relax so effortlessly.

Yaku would have liked to speak, to thank them for their gesture. Yet sleep claimed him too fast, and soon enough he was dozing off into the black-haired being’s careful embrace…

The young Omega slept for what seemed like days, his entire body relaxing in the magical touch. However, when he finally opened his eyes, Yaku found out that his nap had been shorter than expected.

He was still in the now lukewarm basin, cleaned up and cared for, and the stranger was still there.

The young man blinked in confusion, realizing that the pill had soothed his headache. A true magician…

Yaku turned around, groaning a little as his muscles remained fairly stiff, and his eyes widened.

There were encounters that changed lives, but this one was one for the history books. An angel had been sent from the heavens, surely to collect Yaku’s dead body.

Oh surely he was dead. That would make more sense than seeing this ethereal beauty in the darkness of a Feral cell.

The stranger was a stunning, lean man, all in delicacy of shapes and curves. He was busy changing the sheets of Yaku’s bed, unaware that he had woken up. From where he stood, the Omega could only catch a glimpse of the porcelain face, but that enough to disgust him from the rest of the world; he was carved from the finest ivory, with two grey-blue eyes like sapphires. 

A blessing, truly.

Yaku had probably lacked in discretion, for the stranger turned around at last. Their eyes met, and the redhead died on the spot.

Oh dear, was it his fever coming back, or was his face completely flushed?

“Oh hey! You’re awake!”

Blessed smile, blessed voice, blessed scent. He smelled like a thousand flowers, all combined in one single being to make him so incredibly overwhelm-

It hit Yaku, at last. Like a truck.

It blew the air out of his lungs, cut his star-struck pupils into slits.

Before him stood an Omega.

Without any doubt, without any potential for error.

The young man approached sitting next to the bathtub, a towel in his hand.

“You can get out now, it’s going to get cold, and you’re already sick.”

Yaku was speechless, staring in the rudest way possible. But he simply could not believe it. This stranger was draped into the same light blue pyjamas, and had the same heady scent as his friends back in the Street.

What was he doing here? Why wasn’t he locked up?

He had been staring for a bit too long, apparently, for the other man blushed a little and averted his eyes.

“I… You’re Yaku, right? They told me your name… Yaku Morisuke, is that right?”

Yaku’s throat was dry again, his eyes wide. He was back into the cell, his dream blown to pieces. They were prisoners, both of them. He wasn’t an angel sent to rescue him.

And Shibayama was still missing.

“Yes,” he finally croaked, “That’s it...”

He let his eyes fall to the ground as he took the towel, stepping out of the basin with a groan of frustration directed at his own sore body. The foreign Omega smiled and showed the bed, on which a clean uniform was folded.

“You can put those on, they’re for you. From now on, I’ll be in charge of feeding and caring for you. I’m Akaashi Keiji, it’s nice to meet you.”

Yaku dried himself and put the clothes on without a word, before plopping down on the mattress with a sigh of relief.

Akaashi Keiji, uh…

This man was no angel. This man was an Omega. Like him.

“And… why are you… in charge of me, exactly?” he mustered the courage to ask.

Akaashi smiled calmly and sat next to him. Yaku shivered at how sweet he smelled. He did not look abused. He did not look like he was in pain. He wasn’t locked up, after all.

“I’ve been in the Control Center for a year now,” he confessed, “To make economies on staff, Omegas like you and I are trained to care for the other Ferals that are brought here. That includes feeding, bathing, and um… helping with mating cycles too...”

Yaku wanted to puke. He wanted to scream, grab him, grab Shibayama, and escape this hell hole. This was disgusting. How could they call themselves human?

“So you’ve been captured too, right?”

Yaku’s voice had come out harsher than he intended. His eyes met Akaashi’s, and he saw a flickering light of distress in the ocean eyes.

_Knew it._

The other man fiddled with his fingers, shoulders slouching a little as he side-eyed him.

“Well… why else would I be here?” he chuckled bitterly, “Given your… state, I suppose you haven’t decided to come here on holidays either...”

Yaku gazed away, hissing a little at the pain in his neck, “So they’ve trained you...”

“Yes,” Akaashi answered softly, straightening up, “They’ll train you too, once they’ve tamed you.”

Yaku shivered, turning to him, “Tamed me?”

“They can’t trust you with the cell keys or the protocols for now, after all...” the other man chuckled, “You still have...” 

He brought a hand to his cheek, and Yaku felt himself surrendering into the soothing touch, “That fire, in your eyes...”

Akaashi’s gaze shone with longing, and he rested his hand onto his cheek for a bit too long. He seemed to snap back to himself after a few seconds, removing his hand with an avoidant gaze.

Yet Morisuke caught his wrist.

“They trust you… wait they entrust you with keys?” Yaku almost choked, keeping his voice as low as possible.

Akaashi shivered, averting his eyes, “Yes… Yes, they do… I mean… Only specific keys… For the bathrooms, the cells, and uhm-”

“But you have access to information, haven’t you? You know how things work around here?”

The pretty Omega’s gaze shone with slight concern before Yaku’s sudden regain of energy. He gulped, searching for his words.

“Yes I… I do but-”

“Do you know where Shibayama is?”

It was the first question. The first question that mattered. And none other would matter to him until this one had been answered.

He saw Akaashi’s face lighting up with a reassuring smile. 

“Oh, you mean your child?”

For a split second, Yaku’s buzzing brain fell completely silent. His sudden train of thoughts stopped completely, and he stared at the other man with wide, blank eyes, with such intensity that Akaashi’ smile dropped a little.

“Are you-”

“My _what_?”

Keiji blinked softly, nervously reaching for his fingers. He shook his head.

“I mean your… your child…? The little… the little Omega that they put in the Heat Rooms? I thought he had been brought in alongside you...”

Yaku’s brain started working at full speed again, and he gestured widely at him.

So Shibayama was here. In the Heat Rooms. And Akaashi knew where he was.

“That’s- okay that’s- You know where he is, that’s awesome. That’s...”

He was tearing up at this point, wiping his eyes with his sleeves. Akaashi watched him curiously, a gentle smile on the lips. It looked as if he wanted to hug him, or dry his tears, but hadn’t gathered the confidence to approach Yaku yet.

“I’m glad…” the smaller man breathed out, “Is he… is he okay?”

“Oh yes!” Akaashi immediately gasped, “The Heat Rooms are much warmer and more comfortable than these ones, and he’ll be locked in them until his heats are over. He’s of little to no interest to the scientists while in heat...”

Scientists… This was not a surprise to Yaku. Of course there would be scientists, if their aim was to feed information to Rocester…

The relief of knowing Shibayama was safe allowed him to tense down a little, and the young Omega finally chuckled.

“That’s… thank you, for telling me,” he smiled, “Although… I’m afraid he’s not my… child...”

Akaashi’s eyes widened, letting out a clear laugh. A melody to witness… It grabbed Yaku’s heart and would not let go.

“Oh I… I mean he did look a bit old for you to have… I mean,” the sky-eyed Omega fiddled nervously, “I just thought he was your child, but I guess he simply is one of your packmates. You must be a pack leader, right? Otherwise you wouldn’t smell like a mother...”

A _what_?

“I… I beg your pardon?” Yaku stammered, blinking in confusion.

Akaashi seemed a bit taken aback too, and he took a while to smile nervously again, “A… a mother… In… In packs, you know? I’ve… I’ve been told by… those who trained me… Leading Omegas, usually the Pack Alpha’s mate… They smell like mothers whether they have kids or not… Because their bodies… perceive the rest of the pack as uh… you know… their child?”

Another silence stretched between the two of them.

A mother.

Yaku smelled like a mother.

Well _shit_.

“That- that doesn’t- I mean it does not smell bad!” Akaashi panicked a little, flailing his arms around, “On the contrary, it smells warm, cotton-like, milky… It’s a very… very soothing scent, I like it!”

The poor Omega blushed after speaking, and Yaku could not help but smile. Despite the confusing news, it was impossible for him not to reassure Akaashi.

Damn his instincts… 

“I get it, don’t worry! I’m fine! I… I’ve been called a mom once or twice anyway.”

Or rather a billion times. Kuroo never skipped an occasion to mock him for babying his packmates. Although that bastard could have told him he was starting to smell like… milk, out of all things…

Akaashi tensed down, face lit up by a soft smile. He stood up, fiddling with his hands again.

“Alright, I should probably go… I need to give the keys back, and I’ll have to ask some guards to get you rid of that basin. It was nice meeting y-”

“Wait!”

He could not let him go. He was his only chance.

The smaller man jumped up, hissing at his own muscles as he held on to Akaashi. The flowery-scented Omega immediately caught him, eyes wide with confusion.

Yaku gazed up, pupils blown wide with stress.

“You need to help me, Akaashi,” he breathed out, “I’m limited by my body at the moment. You have the keys, you have knowledge. I need to get Shibayama out of here.”

Akaashi gasped and gazed around in panic, squeezing Yaku’s arm painfully upon the shock and the terror of having been heard.

“It’s impossible,” he finally breathed out. “I don’t have access to the Heat Rooms. I have a curfew, I have to give my keys back. You can’t escape...”

“Please. Please Akaashi I’m begging you, we can’t stay here...”

Yaku caught his soft cheeks between his hands, heart melting upon feeling Akaashi lean into his touch. Just how touch starved was this man?

However, Keiji shook his head, light eyes darkening gravely.

“We’re three Omegas. They are trained men with guns and chemical weapons developed to target us. We won’t succeed alone...”

Yaku held on even tighter, making Akaashi wince. He tiptoed, pressing his lips to his neck. The other Omega shivered under the sensation, swallowing dryly.

“Y-Yaku...”

“What if we’re not alone?”

Akaashi froze. He did not answer, so Yaku continued.

“We are many. I know plenty of Ferals, like us, on the Street. They crave justice and freedom too. You… You are our only hope at contacting them, and getting out. We are _not_ alone, Akaashi.”

The smaller man waited for his answer, throat dry, eyes burning with anticipation.

Untameable. A fire of hope burning in honest eyes.

Akaashi straightened up, and so Yaku stood back, heart pulsing.

He lost his smile.

Before his eyes, the sky-eyed beauty’s face had darkened like the clouds of a thunderstorm. There was a cold, ever so cold glimmer in the icy gaze now, that made Yaku’s heart skip a beat.

Tamed. An extinguished fire.

Akaashi took out a small device from his pocket, brought it to his lips.

Soft lips, that Yaku could have kissed a second ago.

Soft lips, now split into a smug, heartless grin.

Feral. Wildfire.

“Target acquired. The suspect has confirmed Feral presence in the Eastern Observation Area. Legal requirements are met. You may proceed with the Discovery Operations.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!  
> I'm posting this super quick cause I have an assignment to do this weekend, and I needed to get this chapter done before Saturday XD (in the end this chapter is the longest so far)
> 
> I'm experimenting with a less omniscient narrator to make the writing flow a bit more, cause I'm super displeased with my style so far (since this is a "stress-relieving fic", I don't put a lot of time in the planning and editing, so even the story makes me insecure lol). I actually kinda like this chapter, it has less info-dumping and more dialogue, so tell me if you felt a difference and if you like it!
> 
> So in this chapter we have almost no Kuroo, no Iwaizumi and no Bokuto (again), but I mean it's necessary for the plot :'( At least you got Yaku and Akaashi (*gets murdered by the readers who wanted a cute Kaashi and not an enemy one*))
> 
> Pop Quiz:  
> \- Did Tendou give Kuroo a good pep talk? Does he look like an interesting character?  
> \- What do you think will happen at the Alpha meeting at Oikawa's?  
> \- How do you like Yaku's personality? Did you feel something was off with Akaashi, or would you have been tricked too? What kind of person is Akaashi, in your opinion?  
> \- Did you like the symbolism in this chapter (fire mainly)?
> 
> NOW don't forget that you can ask me questions too! I respond to all comments, so don't hesitate, whether you wanna know more about a character or the universe, or even a plot point! I also love hearing about your headcanons and ideas, and your comments boost me!
> 
> If you wanna chat more, my Haikyuu Instagram account is @haiky_umanga (profile pic: manga Moniwa in despair). It's not a very developed account, but my dms are always open :D
> 
> Thank you SO MUCH to anyone who has commented so far, and to those who comment on each chapter, I see you and I love you!
> 
> Lots of love to you all, and I hope college is gonna allow me to write a chapter for next weekend (but midterms are coming aaaaaah)  
> Bye bye!!


	5. Debate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo is on his way to the Alpha meeting at Oikawa's, and he knows for a fact it won't be an easy debate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: PTSD-induced panic attack elements / harsh language / mentions of torture, abuse

“KENMA! KENMA GET- get… get back here!”

Kuroo strangled himself into lowering his voice. 

Unstoppable. That boy was unstoppable. A force to be reckoned with. A storm.

All of that sheer power compressed into such a small and lazy body that it was easy to get tricked.

Thirty seconds earlier, Kuroo was putting his coat on, telling Kenma that no, in fact, he was not bringing him to that meeting at Oikawa’s. And Kozume had been just there, nothing but a red hoodie on, watching him with the bored eyes of an unbothered man.

And thirty ones later, Tetsurou was bolting out on the street, eyes frantically looking for whoever had kidnapped his friend on their doorstep. 

But in fact, Kenma had made the very purposeful choice to keep his mouth shut and get out, not even listening to his answer. He simply was as slow and casual as ever, looking nowhere near the disobedient brat he was being.

Kuroo did his best to appear calm and collected as he reached the Omega in a few large steps. They were all going to make him lose his mind. Between Kenma blatantly ignoring his order and Bokuto pouting about being told to stay home too, he was starting to feel his patience wearing off.

“Kenma. Kenma please be reasonable.”

“I am.”

“Kenma, look at me, please,” he begged in a whisper, throwing nervous glances around.

At nine in the morning, anyone could see them. Whether it be that young man going on a morning run, or that little woman on her way to the laundromat with a basket full of clothes.

Anyone could hear them. The distant rustling of trees in the cold autumn breeze would not cover much of their conversation.

Kenma never once stopped walking, crossing the Street to reach Building 7. Kuroo gulped as he finally granted him his attention in a furtive gaze.

“You’re reeking again,” the Omega simply pointed out, “Stop torturing yourself, I’m going, whether you like it or not.”

Kuroo matched his pace, grabbing his wrist to slow him down a little. Nothing worked: Kenma was on a mission.

“There… There will be Alphas in there… It’s not a place...” He marked a pause, trying to come up with the best expression not to cross the determined little man.

“Not a place for me?” Kenma’s amber eyes pierced through the taller man like needles, prodding him for a reaction, a confession maybe. 

Pressuring him into admitting that he was only scared because Kozume was an Omega, and because their destination was a place filled with people who could overwhelm him, belittle him, or worse.

Kuroo swallowed dryly, averting his gaze. There was no lying to Kenma. An answer would have been proof enough of his discomfort. Silence, a confirmation.

The Omega finally came to a stop, facing him. Kuroo felt the weight of his eyes in even starker clarity, crushing him into a shrinking figure. Now he wished they could have kept on walking.

The Street was but a quicksand of dangers; stop and you might get trapped. Get trapped and you’ll get caught.

“I’ll be fine,” Kenma spoke, shaking his head.

Kuroo gazed up at last, dark eyes shimmering with concern. How could he know? How could he look so calm and nonchalant? Wasn’t the prospect of such a conversation about their very existence stressful enough as it was?

“Kuroo, I’m serious,” Kenma continued, and Tetsurou saw his eyes slightly softening. His scent turned sweeter, and he understood that the Omega was trying to bend his perfume into a soothing smell. 

Kuroo’s breath caught in his throat, “I will not be in any danger, because those people are not only my but your friends too. They are just as frightened as you and me, and they’re just as lost and in need for help. This meeting is our only chance.”

Kuroo should not have told him. He should have kept his discussion with Tendou a secret. Should have gone back home that day, smiled and pretended that nothing happened. To hell with the “sanctuary of a family”: he’d have lied to them had it been to ensure they would have remained at home instead of accompanying him to the wolf’s den.

“Kuroo, are you even listening?”

He was. There simply was a gap between listening and hearing.

Kuroo gulped, letting go of his wrist. He inhaled deeply, feeling Kenma’s fruity scent soothe his aching heart. At least he was making an effort to make him feel better, which was rare… 

Kenma sighed, catching his hand back and squeezing it.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he breathed out, “You’re probably thinking you should not have told me. That you should have gone on your own to assess the situation, so that you could be free to decide whether it is in our best interest to join them or not. But let me tell you something else, Kuroo.”

He got even closer, lowering his voice into a decisive yet kind affirmation.

“It is not your decision to make, because you are not alone in this.”

Kuroo shook his head, “I know… I know, Kenma, I just-”

“You are not alone, and we are a family. Not just you, Konoha, Bokuto, Kunimi and me, but all of us. All thirty-one of us. We are one single family, and we need to look out for every single member of that family. Do you hear that? Isn’t that what Tendou told you?”

Kuroo couldn’t lie; he nodded.

The Street was empty, and yet they spoke in hushed tones. Stating powerful truths in whispers, declaring their legitimacy in the discretion of outlaws.

Kuroo’s family was legally composed of one Beta, two Omegas and one Alpha. 

Kenma was asking him to expand that family beyond lawful limits; he was asking him to acknowledge that his illicit blood craved the presence of a people whose very existence could lead to their doom.

He was asking him for a first step beyond safety, and into their arms. 

Kuroo swallowed dryly, before nodding. His amber eyes met Kenma’s, and a soft whiff of cinnamon spread around them as he did his best to show him his sincerity. The Omega’s eyes shimmered softly as he smelled it.

“At last, you’re using it,” he sighed, turning back to walk towards the building, “I almost thought you couldn’t control it.”

“Well,” Kuroo chuckled, burying his hands in his pocket, “I guess I’m still out of practice… I don’t use it as much as you, for example...”

“Oh please, I never use it.”

“Really? I’m almost sure you tried to drown me in apple juice a few seconds ago.”

“Shut up, you were being sad.”

It felt strange, mentioning such dangerous notions in the street, out in the open. Kuroo would never even approach other Ferals if he believed they might address the topic with him.

It made his heart beat madly, and he could not keep his eyes from fluttering around. 

But it felt safe. They were keeping their voices low, they had to appear as casual as possible.

But at least they were joking around, and Kuroo found out that he enjoyed seeing Kenma grinning maliciously. 

“What do I smell like, by the way?” he enquired as they stood on the threshold.

Kenma did not even spare him a glance, “Cinnamon.”

“Really? Bo said I smelled like curry and pepper.”

“You do, and why are you even asking if he told- ugh, nevermind,” he sighed, pinching his nose before shaking his head, “When you don’t control it, your scent is fucking gross,” he gazed up, eyes narrowing wickedly, “But just then, when you actually controlled it, it smelled like cinnamon. Just like when you tried to soothe Bokuto when Yaku got...well, you know…”

He fell silent. Rare were those who could put it into words. 

Kuroo’s throat tightened, and he nodded.

“Guess I’m as good as pepper-spray when I’m pissed. That’s a good defence method I guess...”

The joke was light, and it earned him a smile from Kenma. 

Joking was enough. Surviving was enough.

For now.

Kuroo was going to push the door open at last, when he caught a familiar whiff which made his eyes widen. Next to him, Kenma let out a sigh.

“You should have seen it coming, don’t you think, Kuroo?”

Yes, in fact, he should have.

After telling his friends about the Alpha meeting, he should have guessed they would not have remained home without arguing. And they did argue. 

Bokuto had pouted and whined and complained that he was an Alpha. Konoha had groaned and added that Kuroo should not be the only one dealing with the issue. And Kenma had simply walked out of the apartment the following morning, not even waiting for Kuroo’s opinion.

But in the end, Kuroo had believed he had convinced them. Konoha needed to stay home to look after Kunimi and Kenma, and Bokuto needed to protect them.

So, in fact, no: Bokuto should not be right behind them at the moment. 

Kuroo turned around fast enough to snap his own spine, acknowledging with absolute horror that he had not been deceived by the scent of a bunch of flowers; the lavender-perfumed Alpha was just there, walking towards his friend with an only half-innocent grin.

“Hi guys!”

Tetsurou pinched the bridge of his nose; unstoppable, all of them. 

“What are you doing here?” Kuroo articulated with fragile calmness as Bokuto stood in between Kenma and him. Lord they were going to become suspicious-looking if they remained on that threshold any longer, but he couldn’t send them back once they were inside. It would only be stranger… 

“Well I… I couldn’t exactly let you go without… I mean...” Bokuto tried to explain, before beaming awkwardly, “You said there would be Alphas… and uh… Since I had guessed you wouldn’t be able to send Kenma home when he left, I figured it would reassure you to have me with you guys-”

“You wanted to see Komi,” Kenma stated matter-of-factly.

Bokuto blinked and bit on his lower lip, gazing aside. A sheepish grin grew on his face, and he scratched his nape. He knew the smaller Beta from a trip to the grocery store with Konoha. A wonderful friendship had sprung from their conversation, and after a few other meetings, Bokuto had soon found himself third-wheeling. 

He thus would not skip on an opportunity to have his friend to himself for a bit.

“Yeah, I wanted to see Komi,” he chuckled, before raising his hands defensively, “But I also wanted to be with you guys, I swear! I’m...” he searched for the right words, golden eyes meeting Kuroo’s with a grave glimmer, “I didn’t want you to be alone.”

He ignored Kenma’s little “Uh I’m here”, keeping his eyes locked with Kuroo’s. 

There was a sincerity to his words Tetsurou wasn’t familiar with. He knew all about his friend’s cheerful honesty and kindness towards all, but it was rare to see him so genuinely concerned that he lost his gentle smile to a serious gaze. It was so intense and affectionate it forced the other Alpha to look away… 

Maybe Kuroo hadn’t been as good as he thought at hiding his apprehension.

The Alpha groaned, pinching his nose again. These two… seriously… 

Unstoppable.

“Fine, let’s go. I do the talking.”

Bokuto grinned in victory, nodding energetically as he pushed the door open and ran to the first apartment's threshold. Kenma simply raised a brow, seemingly unimpressed by Kuroo’ statement. The Alpha knew he could not keep him from speaking his mind even if he tried; his words were more specifically directed towards a bouncing ball of eagerness that had a tendency to speak before thinking… and who was already knocking way too much on their friends’ door.

Kuroo and Kenma joined him at last, and every step closer tightened a little more the knot in Tetsurou’ stomach.

Oikawa’s furious gaze was imprinted in his mind, like a scar on top of an old wound. The other Alpha should have understood his duty to reassure Bokuto, on that day. He should have understood Kuroo was just as shocked as anyone else, trying to protect those he loved from an all too terrible scene.

Oikawa had had no business scowling at him as if he had made the deliberate choice to use his pheromones to doom them all. Kuroo knew it. 

Yet, for the sake of their fate, he sucked in both his frustration and his stress, and he focused on keeping his composure. They were here to talk; there was no better moment than this to set the records straight and start anew. 

As a family.

Soon enough, the door opened on a strawberry-haired man’s grinning face, and Kuroo recognized Hanamaki Takahiro from a discussion with Komi, as he had invited himself on their couch. A taller man soon sprawled himself on top of Hanamaki, wearing an equally as shitty grin; Matsukawa Issei, judging from his curly black hair.

“Why why, we thought you were going to remain on that doorstep until the end of times,” Hanamaki started, his partner immediately chuckling, “Such a fascinating conversation you three must have been having to stay out on the street~ Was it too lewd for us to hear?”

Kenma did not even react, and only Bokuto laughed, a pink shade flushing on his nose and cheekbones at the innuendo; Kuroo wanted to disappear into a hole, at this point. These two… He had heard Komi mentioning them as the household’s “chaotic power couple”, and honestly he could already have an idea about what that meant.

The two Betas grinned wider, straightening up as they stepped aside.

“No need to answer! The sight we had from the window was entertaining enough~” Hanamaki added, “Come in before you rouse any more suspicions! You’re lucky Oikawa’s busy keeping an eye on Ushijima, or he’d have dragged you inside with his own bare hands.”

Kuroo gulped as he mentioned the dreaded name, before walking in. They weren’t wrong, after all: their hushed conversation had probably looked awfully suspicious, now that he thought about it. Dear, Oikawa would be furious…

The Alpha discreetly made sure Bokuto and Kenma walked in behind his protection, before assessing the situation in a broad gaze.

In the terribly familiar-looking apartment, he spotted the source of his worries slouched on a sofa, eyes screwed onto him. Oikawa tensed up, but did not move. Only his gaze burned with a darker glimmer as Kuroo stepped in, followed by a very excited-looking Bokuto and a very apathetic Kenma. Tetsurou noticed how dreadfully agitated the Alpha seemed, how blown his pupils were, and just how much sweat was pearling in his neck. Judging from the dark circles under his eyes, he had not slept a lot.

Kuroo watched as Hanamaki quickly joined him on the sofa, pretty much sprawling himself on top of his Alpha as he emitted a sweet strawberry scent.

“Here here~ We’re almost all there~”

Oikawa did not say a word, eyes fluttering between Kuroo and the other Alpha in the living room.

In a corner, near the window, Tetsurou indeed noticed Ushijima’s presence. The Alpha was sitting down on a chair, keeping his gaze from meeting Oikawa’s; he looked up to Kuroo as he entered, but did not respond nor tense up much. This wasn’t his house, and he had no reason to be territorial. 

To his right sat Sugawara and Tendou. The bubble-gum scented Beta was resting onto Ushijima’ shoulder, and Kuroo realized he was probably one of the main reasons behind the Alpha’s easy state of mind. When he spotted him, Satori grinned and straightened up to lean into Sugawara, whispering a few words in his ear that had the silver-haired Beta chuckling discreetly.

Surely the situation was stressful enough as it was for Oikawa, so Kuroo decided to simply nod at him, before encouraging Kenma to sit on another sofa near the opposite window. The faster they sat down, the faster things would settle in Oikawa’s home.

Tetsurou was about to ask the same out of Bokuto, when his friend pounced forward with a beam.

Unstoppable.

“MIMI!”

A small Beta was walking out of one of the room, scratching his undercut. His eyes widened as he spotted Bokuto, and he jumped forward too.

“BOBO!”

They fell into each other’s arms, Bokuto’s lavender perfume coming out in small whiffs as he picked him up. Komi gasped and groaned.

“Wait, that’s humiliating! Don’t pick me up!” he complained, to which Bokuto obliged, settling on crushing him into a hug instead.

“Sorry Mimi~ How are you doing? Konoha says hi by the way!”

Kuroo watched as the smaller Beta’s face flushed, but did not listen to his answer. His eyes got caught by Oikawa’s figure, and more specifically by the raw tension in his muscles, as well as the minty scent, threatening, that was slowly oozing off of him.

Hanamaki gulped and turned towards Kuroo with a tight smile, silently instructing him to step in. Matsukawa walked behind the sofa and pressed his hands to his Alpha’ shoulders to keep him grounded.

There was a certain distress to Oikawa’s behaviour that Tetsurou couldn’t quite place, and which made him respond without any hesitation.

Kuroo gulped and turned towards Bokuto. 

“Bo, come here.”

His voice was low and soft, slightly tense, mind you, but he did his best not to let his stress show; given Oikawa’s dislike of them, having an Alpha practically scent-marking one of his Betas in his very home wasn’t much of a good idea. 

Bokuto blinked, far from being oblivious to the slight awkwardness in his friend’s voice. He gazed up, letting his eyes run around the room. All gazes were onto him.

He saw Sugawara shaking his head discreetly, gesturing with his chin for him to step back. He saw Matsukawa giving him a soft yet pressuring smile.

And he saw Oikawa’s dark gaze and twitching upper lip; he was keeping his growls and teeth in with great effort.

The young Alpha gulped as he realized his mistake, and turned towards Komi with a nervous gaze. However, the young Beta had immediately responded to his Alpha’s fury with a reassuring chocolate scent, before smiling back at Bokuto.

“You’ll tell Konoha I miss him, alright? And that if he doesn’t bring his ass to me more often, I’ll have to start cheating on him with Hanamaki.”

The pink-haired Beta immediately raised a peace sign, “Preach, Komi~”

Bokuto kept himself from answering that Konoha might be a bit wary of his Alpha’s territorial tendencies, but he knew it was not exactly the right time to tell him to come over instead, to another Alpha’s household. Honestly, they would have to end up having sex in the streets…

The grey-haired man nodded with an amused grin, before quickly joining his packmates on their attributed sofa. He sat on one side of Kenma, and Kuroo on the other. The young Omega simply sighed, but did not comment on the fact that they were being over-protective.

Kuroo shared a glance with Bokuto that was more of a relived and intimate gesture than a scolding warning; the situation was new to Tetsurou too, and he was pretty sure Ushijima wouldn’t be much more at ease than him had his Betas not be around.

An Alpha meeting. Great idea.

Komi quickly made his way to his Alpha’ side, pressing himself to his neck to avoid being reprimanded. His affectionate behaviour allowed Oikawa to tense down a little, and he pressed his nose to the Beta’s glands to scent-mark him.

The silence stretched for a few seconds, before two other Alphas joined them. Kuroo recognized them from description again, but he had also already seen them on the Street.

Kentarou Kyotani had a certain reputation for being a hot-blooded man, although his trouble-seeking nature was invisible to the eyes of regular human beings. Tetsurou had once seen the Alpha getting so mad at a cashier in the supermarket that his pheromones had almost drowned the entire shop. Yet his anger was but a cold stare and a murderous silence, and the cashier had probably not noticed the other man’s death threat.

It was his packmate, Yuutaro Kindaichi, that constituted most of his impulse control, and Kuroo remembered seeing him press a hand between the other man’ shoulder blades. A second later, the pheromones were more or less contained, and the cashier spared.

Both of them were now standing in the living room, Kyotani shooting them all a death glare and Kindaichi gazing around with a nervous smile. His grin widened when he spotted Kuroo and his packmates, and he motioned to approach them.

However, his Pack Alpha stood up at once to welcome him first, getting to press his nose to his glands too. 

“Good morning Kindaichi,” he smiled into his neck, “Did you sleep well?”

Kindaichi blinked in surprise upon seeing Oikawa’s possessive behaviour, but he let him do. Matsukawa took the opportunity to steal Oikawa’s spot on the couch, snuggling against Hanamaki and making Komi gasp in amused annoyance.

“I did, thanks Oikawa,” Kindaichi immediately smiled, offering his neck to the older Alpha, “Are we still waiting for others?”

“I’m pretty sure some guys from Building 5 and 6 are supposed to come,” Komi sighed, leaning against the armrest, “Probably Daichi and Tanaka...”

Oikawa straightened up again, making his way towards Kyotani. He pressed a scented kiss to the Alpha’s neck, earning a furious glare that did not startle him the slightest, “I’m pretty sure Chibi-chan’s gonna come too… He’s a stubborn one.”

Kuroo saw Kenma rolling his eyes. The brunet was more than clearly trying to assert his dominance by scent-marking all of his packmates, especially his Alphas.

Kuroo couldn’t exactly blame him, but the simple notion of scent-marking to prove oneself made him nervous. Surely Oikawa’s family did not need to be tamed to prove their loyalty…

Oikawa ended up sighing dramatically, shooting a disapproving glare at Ushijima, “Why, I am starting to wonder if I’m not too kind, letting all of you Alphas into my house… Especially considering some of you can’t even control themselves...”

He did not look at Kuroo, but it was more than obvious he was talking about him. The Alpha tensed up but did not answer. 

He felt Kenma’s fruity scent reach him, and immediately offered him a smile in return. However, the little Omega was not even looking at him. For such a protective man, Kenma was good at appearing distant.

No one responded to Oikawa’s taunt, and before the Alpha could complain about it or go any further, Kindaichi cleared his throat.

“Hi, I’m glad you could all make it,” he offered awkwardly as he turned back to Kuroo and his packmates, “I…”

He seemed to search for his words, and the three of them watched him with great confusion. They did not particularly know him, nor could they think of any reason why he would go out of his way to greet them.

At last, the young Alpha gulped, “I see Kenma has come too...” he smiled, nodding respectfully towards the little Omega, “Have… Is Kunimi here?”

Oh, there it was. Kuroo could not help but chuckle. The one time they had managed to pull Kunimi out of his room and onto the Street, they had crossed paths with the young Alpha and his hot-blooded packmate. Tetsurou had thought he had imagined the slight shift in Kindaichi’ scent, but he had not been mistaken: the spiky-haired man had indeed been struck by Cupid’s arrow. 

“Well, no, but I’ll make sure to tell him you’ve asked about him,” Kuroo cooed, more than amused.

Kindaichi turned all shades of red, and Kuroo was almost sure he could feel Kenma snickering next to him, “N-no you… you don’t have to- I mean-”

“It’s okay,” Kuroo raised his hands with a playful grin, “We need excuses to get him out of his room anyway.”

Kindaichi scratched his nape in embarrassment before smiling, “A… Alright, thanks...”

Kuroo nodded and watched as the young man walked back to his pack’ sofa. Hanamaki and Matsukawa were wearing their most devilish smirks, and they latched onto him as he sat down, rubbing his hair while Komi was attacking his sides. 

Kuroo took a glance towards Oikawa, and noticed that he was standing next to Kyotani, watching him with a disapproving expression. Tetsurou gulped; maybe he should not have been so familiar with Kindaichi… But it was simply so ridiculous! Yuutaro had been the one reaching out! 

Kyotani quickly escaped his Alpha to go and lean against the wall, right behind his Pack’ sofa. They could cuddle all they want, this simply wasn’t his cup of tea.

Oikawa remained standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed. His eyes were still fluttering between Ushijima, Kuroo and Bokuto, keeping them in check.

Now that everyone was in the room, the silence felt heavier. They all kept their pheromones in, and no actual animosity filled the air. Yet, as they waited for the last Alphas to arrive, Kuroo couldn’t help but feel out of place.

The silence itself was unnatural, to say the least. Ushijima was crushing himself in a corner not to rouse the anger of the house’s Pack Leader, and even Sugawara and Tendou kept their voices low as they chatted the time away.

Next to him, Bokuto was pretty much sprawled onto Kenma; his friend had never been very good at standing still.

Only the house’s pack broke the silence here and then, whether it be Hanamaki teasing his younger packmates or Matsukawa trying to get Oikawa to sit down.

The Pack Alpha would simply grumble and ignore him, standing there above all of them who were sitting down. He was keeping things in control, and Kuroo could not help but understand him. 

So many people, and so many ways this could go wrong.

As wrong as that day, that day during which the brown-haired Alpha’s lover had lost two of his packmates to their own bodies.

Kuroo suddenly realized he found it harder to fear Oikawa than to empathize with him.

At last, a few rapid knocks could be heard on the door, and Tooru went to open it. A scowl grew on his face, and the young man stepped aside.

“You’re late. We should have started ages ago.”

Daichi Sawamura walked in, a calm smile on the lips. He was not impressed by the other Alpha, to say the least. Behind him stood Nobuyuki Kai, his Beta packmate, as well as Ryunosuke Tanaka and Shouyou Hinata from Building 5.

Kuroo took a glance at Kenma, noticing his eyes were already caught by the short red-haired Alpha who was happily waving at him. Dear dear…

“Apologies, Oikawa. Hinata insisted on going along with Tanaka, and so we were delayed.”

The Alpha took a glance at Shouyou, who gulped and hid behind his bald Pack Leader. From a corner of his eyes, Kuroo noticed Sugawara’s wide beam towards Daichi, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. Tendou didn’t miss a beat either, and he wrapped himself around his fellow Beta, grinning widely. Already, the poor man was a blushing mess.

Oikawa simply sighed and invited them to take a few chairs to sit in a corner of the room. 

Three more Alphas and one Beta. Kuroo would lie if he said his stress hadn’t increased. Thinking back, having Akinori around would have probably been a good idea. 

He felt like this was only him and Bokuto against all of those Alphas, and he regretted not ordering Kenma to stay home. No matter how calm the young man seemed, it was impossible he did not feel out of place as the only Omega amongst them.

At last, they were all settled, and they watched as Oikawa remained the only Alpha standing in the middle of the room.

“Shall we begin, now that our late-comers have indulged us with their presence?”

Kuroo saw Matsukawa rolling his eyes and pressing Hanamaki to his chest. Hinata frowned and raised his hand, making Oikawa sigh.

“Yes, Chibi-chan?”

“Aren’t we waiting for someone from Building 3? I thought Lev would be here...”

His intervention had an immediate effect, and the tension in the room escalated. Tanaka immediately reached out to press a hand to his shoulder, but Oikawa was quicker to speak.

“Well no, Chibi-chan,” he stated sharply, “We are not. After all, two of his packmates have been discovered, so we cannot exactly afford to have him join us. Our meeting is risky enough as it is without having a suspect around.”

Hinata lowered his gaze, Tanaka squeezing his shoulder kindly.

Oikawa gazed around again, daring anyone to defy his authority. Ushijima immediately lowered his eyes, impressing Kuroo with his ability to submit to the brunet’s authority. Again, he had heard that Ushijima was a very much reasonable and selfless person; surely he had no problem putting his pride aside for the sake of a constructive dialogue.

The sight made a bubble of frustration burn in his chest. Oikawa was being harsh and unfair, especially when addressing topics such as Yaku and Shibayama’s abduction. He wasn’t the only one under heavy stress, after all… 

“So, now, let’s begin,” Oikawa continued, “You all know why we are here. With our two little friends’ discoveries, it is only a matter of time before things turn sour for all of us. We need to take action, and we need to do it now.”

Before anyone could respond, Daichi leaned forward, frowning.

“Wait, Oikawa,” he began carefully, “I thought we were only here to discuss tighter links between our packs. Taking actions… It would be a huge step forward, I… look at us...” He gestured around the room, “We barely know each other. For the most part, it is the first time we’ve even mentioned our secondary genders with such a wide audience since we were put here...” 

Kuroo nodded. He was right. His interactions with most of these people had never gone farther than a quick nod on the Street. Their most urgent need was to learn to know each other and to share information, as Kenma had mentioned.

Oikawa did not seem to share the same opinion. 

He scowled, shaking his head, “Tight links have not saved Yaku nor Shibayama. What we need is a proper plan, a way to escape this place so that we are never discovered.”

Daichi shared a glance with Kai, and his packmate continued, “What Sawamura means is that… well… We are numerous, and we barely know each other. Before talking about a plan, let’s learn to know each other and ourselves… We desperately need information.”

Kuroo nodded unconsciously again, and Oikawa spotted him. His eyes narrowed, and Tetsurou felt his heart ache in his chest. He straightened up, trying to keep his chin low so as not to upset the taller man any further.

The tension in the room had gone up at an alarming speed, and Kuroo could feel how upset Oikawa was. Kindaichi whispered a few words in Komi’s ear, and the Beta nodded with a worried expression.

This was not how things should have gone, and the brown-haired Alpha was the main reason why.

“Well, if you all seem so keen on not doing anything, maybe we should just give up and wait for those bastards to pick us up like pretty flowers,” Oikawa chuckled bitterly, more agitated than he should be after only a few exchanges, “Maybe we can just chat and cuddle, form a sweet gigantic pack and share information that we will never use because we will simply get captured!”

He offered them a smile that was way too bright, and Kuroo had to gaze away.

There was an unspoken truth in the room that no one dared to mention: on that dreaded day, Oikawa had seen Iwaizumi losing two of his packmates. He had seen his lover being shattered to pieces, and it was no secret amongst the Ferals that the Omega had not exactly been the same since their loss.

Maybe Oikawa shouldn’t be the one in charge of the debate...

Matsukawa finally sighed.

“Oikawa, you know this isn’t what they meant-”

“Well what else do they mean?” the Alpha snapped, turning to him. His minty scent was oozing off him, exhausted eyes shimmering with fury, “We’ve all seen what happened to the boys, and we all know this isn’t gonna stop here!” His pupils turned into slits, “And Makki, don’t you _fucking_ dare approach me.”

The strawberry-scented Beta had stood up, ready to reach out for him with comforting pheromones as he had done earlier. He was frozen on the spot by the cold order, eyes widening softly under his Alpha’s harshness. Oikawa’s pheromones were all over the place by now, and Kuroo realized too late that Matsukawa and Hanamaki had tried to prevent the time-bombed Alpha to go off. From their very arrival through to this moment, they had been the ones keeping him grounded.

But they had not been quick enough on that one.

Kuroo pressed himself a bit closer to Kenma, and he felt Bokuto do the same. A quick look at their Omega allowed him to understand he wasn’t completely overwhelmed yet: his eyes were slightly wider, but he could smell no distress signal.

Oikawa Tooru was standing in the centre of the room, pupils blow and heavy amounts of pheromones oozing off of him, staring at his Beta with all the distress and anger in the world.

Matsukawa stood up to get to his mate, careful in his approach. The rest of the room knew better than to intervene, and Kuroo spotted Tendou pressing Sugawara closer against Wakatoshi and himself.

Unstoppable. Alphas were unstoppable, and Kuroo felt his breath shorten with stress.

“Hey, Oikawa, you’re good,” Matsukawa continued, a careful smile onto his lips, “There’s no need to get upset. We’re here to talk this through-”

“They won’t listen. I can see it. They’re all… defiant! They’re all here to defy me! Even that, that wild _bastard_ there has come here to take Kindaichi away from me.”

Saying so, his voice dropped a few octaves, and a violent minty scent took over Kuroo’s nostrils. He tensed up, pupils turning into slits as his eyes met Oikawa’s intense ones.

_An Alpha is challenging you._

His breath turned heavier, and he straightened up on the sofa, all muscles clenched. A low rumble rolled up his throat and resonated in his mouth. Before he knew it, Oikawa was baring his teeth at him, and Kuroo was mimicking him. 

_An Alpha is challenging you._

_An Alpha is threatening your pack._

Next to him, Kenma tensed up, and Koutarou let out a keening noise. The sound startled Kuroo out of his stupor, and he looked aside to witness Bokuto’s painful state. His wide golden eyes were blown out of proportion, screwed onto the threatening Alpha. His head was screwed into his shoulders in a defensive stance as he hovered above Kenma. Every hair on his body was on edge.

Bokuto was terrified, but he stood in between Oikawa and his Omega.

Kuroo suddenly realized how dreadfully dry his throat was, and how much of a throbbing pain was pounding in his head. As he was sure Kenma was safe, drenched into Koutarou’s protective pheromones, Kuroo managed to keep himself grounded enough to take a look at the room again.

He watched with great confusion as Tendou sat on Ushijima’s lap, pressing his Alpha’s nose into his chest, red eyes screwed onto Oikawa. Sugawara had rushed towards Hinata and Tanaka, pressing them to his neck, and Kai was doing the same with Daichi. On the other sofa, Komi had Kindaichi and Kyotani more or less forcefully squeezed against him. The blond man had circled his arms around his waist, eyes locked onto Oikawa too. The little Beta was looking at Bokuto with great concern, visibly desperate to help him but unable to let go of his two Alphas.

Realisation hit Kuroo slowly, as if hindered by a thick fog: they knew. Knew more than he did, more than anyone from his family did.

They had seen Oikawa going feral, and they had immediately responded by drowning the other Alphas in their own scent.

They knew more than Kuroo did, and his ignorance was inflicting terrible pain onto Bokuto and Kenma.

Had he been keener on meeting others and sharing information, maybe he would have known better. He’d have brought Konoha along, and the Beta would have been able to keep them from suffering. He’d have kept Kuroo’s pheromones from responding to Oikawa’s, and maybe Hanamaki and Matsukawa would not have had to deal with everything.

Through the suffocating minty air, he saw the strawberry-scented Beta reaching out for Oikawa, forcing him down to take deep inhales against his chest. He saw Matsukawa wrapping his arms around his Alpha from behind, making sure he could not escape their pheromones.

Oikawa was shaking. Shaking with every inch of his body, and Kuroo could see his wide eyes shine with so much sorrow, so much fear…

It was simply unbearable, to see grief so starkly in one that did everything he could to stand strong.

Tetsurou knew that pain all too well.

He gulped, and as he saw Oikawa crumble onto himself, he managed to control his own emissions. The world turned awfully quiet.

Kuroo saw Bokuto panting softly next to him, still wide-eyed as Kenma tried to make him snap out of his trance. He saw Hanamaki and Matsukawa sharing a pained glance as their Alpha laid in between them, silent, shivering.

He saw the rest of them stunned into silence, from Kindaichi to Sugawara, Alphas and Betas alike.

They’d gone feral.

The thought crawled into his mind, lodged there. Like the endless thudding of a drum, slow, leading up to an execution.

Had he been right, then? Was it impossible for them to unite, to become one big family, ready to face the rest of the world together?

He’d almost been deceived by Hanamaki’s teasing grins, by Tendou’s appeasing gaze. He’d almost believe it could happen. That a family could spring from their nightmare.

Surely, it could not. Never. Oikawa’s behaviour had been enough of an argument, Bokuto’s wide fearful eyes enough of a counter-indication. 

They would be discovered. The Street System would be successful, and Rocester would eradicate them all, or turn them into whatever twisted invention he could think of.

Yaku and Shibayama would never be back.

That thought, that one thought brought Kuroo’s heart to the verge of explosion. 

Was it all that could spring from their first meeting? Was it all that Ferals could offer the world? Bared teeth and uncontrollable fear?

No. Someone had to say something. Anything. They had so much more to talk about.

How to handle heats? How to handle ruts?

How to protect Alphas and Omegas alike from harm despite their sensitivity to pheromones?

How to free Yaku and Shibayama?

Someone had to say something, and that someone could be him. The Pack Alpha. The messy, “wild” Alpha that struggled with the control of his own pheromones. It was his role, to step up, despite Oikawa’s anguish, despite the others’ fear.

It was his role to lead.

And so he opened his mouth, at last, and pushed his strained and dry throat to produce a sound. Any sound. Any sound as long as it could spark hope.

Someone was faster. Someone had seen the problem and took it upon himself to speak.

Someone had brought gasoline to their meeting, and had poured it in silence during their fight.

Kuroo’s eyes widened as he saw Kenma gazing up, pressing a shivering Bokuto against his chest.

“Now that we’ve made it clear that we’re all in deep shit, let’s start this meeting, shall we?”

Unstoppable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI~~~  
> I'M SO SORRY I'M LATE ON SCHEDULE, MIDTERMS' WEEK WAS FRANTIC
> 
> Okay so I kinda forced myself to write this quickly so I could post before this week-end, so here it is! It hasn't turned out the way I expected it to, but I'm decently satisfied with it. I had to split the meeting in two not to make a super long chapter!
> 
> So, small pop quiz (do you guys even like those or should I stop?)  
> \- what do you think of Oikawa's behaviour?  
> \- how do you like the new characters?
> 
> By the way, if you want, I'm thinking of making an "Ask the Characters" kind of thing lmao.  
> SO if you have questions for Bokuto, Kuroo, Yaku, Akaashi or anyone else, don't hesitate. I'm sure they'll be happy to answer you ;) (for ex: "Hey Bokuto, how's it like living with Kuroo?" or "Hey Komi, are Mattsun and Makki always this chaotic"? I'll answer in the comments of course ;) )
> 
> OTHER QUICK INFORMATION: during midterms' week, I've been working on a Matsukawa x Hanamaki one-shot! I'm super excited to post it, so I'll hope you'll take a look at it! Subscribe to my account if you wanna get a notification when I do post it!
> 
> Anyway, love you guys! Hope you liked this chapter: It was heavy in character introductions, the next one will be more interesting plot-wise!  
> Your comments give me life, so please don't hesitate to leave a little something!  
> Bye bye~~ I'll try to post within maximum two weeks and minimum one ;)
> 
> PS: I've tried to upload the tags, but I can't seem to put them in the order I want them to be in. Main ships are Bokuaka, Kuroyaku, Iwaoi and Matsuhana for those who wanted to know


	6. Boundaries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The meeting comes to an end in an unexpected way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS: graphic depiction of violence, slut-shaming, mentions of sexual themes

“According to Yamaguchi, heats make the body go _fwaAAh_ and your mind just goes _da-BAM_.”

Bokuto tried very hard – so very hard, to understand whatever Hinata had just said. He let the concepts twirl around in his mind, mouthed the sounds once or twice, frowned and stared at the ground so as to give his full attention to the small Alpha’s words.

However, he ultimately failed, and settled on seeking meaning within his friends’ faces. He had never considered himself particularly bright, and thus he had concluded that the others had probably understood more than he did. Maybe Hinata was speaking in metaphorical terms? Dear, he had never been good at understanding metaphors… 

To his side, Kuroo had his head thrown back against the headrest, eyes screwed onto the ceiling and looking nowhere near focused. Bokuto would have berated his best friend for being so rude had he not been recovering from a pheromone clash with another Alpha not even thirty minutes ago. The sight made Koutarou’s heart twitch, but he was too far from Kuroo to try soothing him. And if he emitted any pheromones at all, the entire room would slit his throat – especially Kenma.

The little Omega was still sitting in between him and his poor best friend, legs crossed on the sofa. Ever since he had taken over the meeting’s leadership, tensions had died down, and Bokuto was more than grateful for it. His senses were still on high alert, and he could hear his own blood pulsing slowly in his veins. Never in a million guesses could he have imagined that threatening Alpha pheromones could hijack his mind and body to such an extent. It had taken him twenty minutes to get his right leg to stop twitching, and ten more to be able to trust himself with articulate words instead of low keening noises.

During the span of those thirty minutes, Kenma had simply asked for the windows to be open and for glasses of water to be handed out. That recovery time had been more than necessary, and as soon as the atmosphere had been calm enough for efficient thinking, Kozume had enquired about the first topic: heats.

And thus followed Hinata’s answer.

Bokuto saw Kenma blinking, although he wasn’t sure whether the Omega was impressed or utterly despaired by the explanation.

“Um…” he finally sighed, “Could you elaborate on that, Shouyou…?”

“Yes! It’s very simple, to be honest. He said his body had warmed up like _woAAA_ , and it was very sudden like _fyah_! And then _BYOM_ for a whole week!”

The eager little Alpha’s eyes were shimmering like flames, matching his wild hair. He was bouncing on his chair, in between a very confused Tanaka and a speechless Sugawara. The Beta had remained alongside the two Alphas in case someone went Feral again, and given his helpless smile towards Kenma, he had not understood much more.

Bokuto watched them with certain relief and amusement, reassured to see that even a “smart one” like Koushi looked just as confused as he was. The Alpha sprawled himself against the armrest, taking up roughly half of the couch in his attempt at making himself comfortable. He hadn’t exactly planned on speaking anyway, so he would have to wait a long time.

He spotted Kenma pinching his nose with a sigh, and couldn’t refrain from a chuckle. There was only one person who could make Kenma lose his composure, and it was Hinata. Kuroo could make him sigh all he wanted, only Shouyou could bring him to the point where he actually had to pinch his nose and think things through.

“Ah, sorry Kenma...” Tanaka finally said, scratching the back of his head. He pushed his chair closer to Hinata’s and wrapped an arm around his confused packmate’ shoulders, “Usually we have Kageyama to translate whatever it is he is rambling about, but since I had planned on coming alone anyway...”

He gave Hinata a chiding glare, to which the little Alpha simply gasped.

“I wanted to see how Lev was doing! And it would not have been fair if you were to go alone! It’s an Alpha meeting, and I’m an Alpha too!”

“Yes, well, four out of five people in our Pack are Alphas, so maybe I didn’t want to leave Yamaguchi alone or to look suspicious by having the four of us coming along...”

His remark, although kindly spoken, drew a guilty pout on Hinata’s lips, and Bokuto watched with endearment as Tanaka affectionately scratched his tangerine head. He lost his focus to daydreams of such tender interactions with his packmates, with Kuroo maybe, or even Konoha and his cookie-scented skin. Or maybe with Kenma or Kunimi… if ever he managed to sneak into their rooms while they slept. Hell, maybe he’d have to knock them out to even touch their hair.

The sound of Kenma’s voice brought him back to Earth, and he focused again.

“There are very few Omegas on the Street, and out of them all, the only one to have had his first heats is Yamaguchi.” Shibayama aside, of course, but that was a matter no one wished to address, “Tanaka, what about you? What did you pick out from his behaviour?”

Bokuto’s golden eyes fell onto Tanaka against, and the buzz-cut Alpha thought for a few seconds, before shaking his head with a sigh.

“Well, honestly not much…”

“Anything can be of use,” Kenma assured him.

The Alpha gazed up and smiled softly, “Well… Alright. He started feeling a bit sick, roughly one day before it began. As in, he felt like he had a fever, and we also believed he had caught a cold. His face was flushed and he started sweating a whole lot. Eventually, he sought out our company, but that is something we did not notice at first, cause we stayed with him most of the time since we did not know what to do about his condition.”

“Cause when someone’s sick, the best thing to do is to stay with him and get sick too…”

Oikawa’ sarcastic comment earned him a light slap on the head, courtesy of Matsukawa Issei. Bokuto’s eyes drifted towards the other Pack’s couch as he gulped. It had not taken very long for Oikawa to recover, but the others remained very wary of his words, fearing another outburst. His remark made the tension rise a little, although soon enough, his Betas had handled the situation with wonderful efficiency: right after Matsukawa’ slap, Hanamaki had settled on his Alpha’s lap, earning a groan from the brunet that got drowned in Makki’s hair as he laid back against his kingly seat.

“Ignore him. Please continue, Tanaka.”

The strawberry-scented Beta and his dark-haired partner had the most innocent shit-eating grins on their faces, and Oikawa’s weak protests and sighs as Matsukawa started playing with his hair from behind the couch were enough to ease the atmosphere down. 

A smile spread on Bokuto’s lips as he saw Komi sharing a proud glance with Makki, still pressing Kindaichi and Kyotani to his chest. Even with the pheromones having long evacuated the living room and Kyotani’s pride making his expression freeze into a perpetual scowl, the two Alphas had known better than to lose their spot against the chocolate warmth of their Beta. Bokuto’s heart twitched a bit as he realized he truly missed Konoha’s cookie scent…

From the corner of his eyes, he spotted Tanaka nodding, still holding Hinata to his shoulder.

“Well, that’s about it. He got very cuddly until the moment he started… well… _moaning,_ I’d say. And then he locked himself in his room and Tsukishima did not let us approach him for a week.”

From the spot near the opposite window, Tendou frowned, still sitting on Ushijima’s lap, “Moaning, you say? Are you sure that is all there is to it? What kind of moans?”

Tanaka and Hinata shared a nervous glance, and Bokuto watched as the words painted crimson colours on their cheeks.

“W-well… That’s a bit embarrassing to say…”

“We need all the information we can get,” Kenma continued, sharp eyes piercing through them, “And we’ve all seen the state Shibayama was in. There must be steps towards that situation, and we need to recognize the signs if we want to protect ourselves.”

A certain silence spread in the room at the mention of the Event. The First Discovery. Whatever word they would use to describe that heart-wrecking scene would be ruined to their minds for a lifetime… 

Tanaka’s eyes fell to the ground, and Hinata’s gentle hazel gaze sought his for guidance, but to no avail. It made Bokuto’s heart ache to see his little friend so concerned for his Pack Leader…

Thankfully, Sugawara got closer and pressed a hand to their shoulders.

“Hey, it’s okay...” he breathed out, “We’re all family here. Let’s help each other out as we can, okay?” 

Tanaka gazed up and met the Beta’s warm eyes, inhaling his reassuring gingerbread scent. Bokuto’s heart accelerated with utter joy upon seeing Suga’s kind smile; he could not help it, he loved affection in all its forms, even when he wasn’t on the receiving end. 

At last, Tanaka took a sharp breath and straightened up, turning back towards Kenma.

“Yamaguchi started emitting weird noises and sounds,” he continued, “And we thought it was due to his fever. The… the sign that actually alerted us was the...” 

He gulped, shaking his head, “The… lubricating fluids…”

Another silence stretched through the room, and Bokuto saw Kuroo focusing back. His friend straightened up, and his eyes fell onto Kenma with silent attention. Bokuto understood him; a reflex to check on his Omega, who was the most concerned by the news.

However, if Kenma was disturbed in any way, he did not let it show and simply frowned, “Lubricating fluids…?”

“Yes, well...” Tanaka gulped and scratched the back of his head, “He… He noticed it before we did but… toilet paper wasn’t enough so we… noticed it too.”

He fell silent, gazing at Kenma. Everyone watched him carefully, although some managed to tear their eyes away not to overwhelm him. Bokuto unsuccessfully tried to read through his calm eyes: the little Omega never failed to impress him, although his peaceful demeanour did not soothe Bokuto’s protective instincts much.

“I see, it’s a very good piece of information,” Kenma simply stated, “Anything else you can tell us? You’ve mentioned Tsukishima protecting the room...”

“Yeah, Yamaguchi and Tsukki are kind of a thing…” Tanaka nodded, “However, he decided not to _intervene_ so as not to create any more… issues. He simply guarded the door.”

“Yes, and he was very aggressive about it too, even towards Tanaka!” Hinata added, practically bouncing on his seat, his eyes wide as he gestured around, “Also, Yamaguchi’s glands became visible, a bit like mosquito bites. We could actually feel and see them on each side of his neck, but he did not let us analyse them much. They were very sensitive, and he would either growl or whine when we passed our fingers on them...”

A light blush spread on his cheeks, and he turned towards Tanaka, “And, I mean, I think that’s it… The good thing is that no matter his proximity, his heats did not trigger our ruts. Not even Tsukishima’s – and he was the one going inside the room to bring him food and water!”

Kenma’s eyes sparkled with interest, and he gulped, “He did not trigger you guys? And you did not feel the need to… I mean… you could control yourselves?”

Tanaka and Hinata shared a glance, both blushing. But despite their embarrassment, they had the whole room hanging from their lips.

“We… felt the _need_ ,” Tanaka articulated carefully, “It was a difficult week, we couldn’t sleep, and we were… well there were some tensions, I’d say. But yes, we could control ourselves.”

They knew. They had all known that controlling oneself was possible ever since they let Yaku and Shibayama go. 

But this was a different setting: in a non-emergency situation, with no shock nor fear involved, a Pack of four Alphas had managed to set boundaries and preserve their stability throughout a first heat. Now, yes, it was only the first one, and yes, the four others had not presented yet. 

Maybe the first heat was weaker, and maybe the Alphas’ control would wear thinner after their first ruts.

But for now, this was a good piece of news. An excellent one.

Kenma could not contain his relief, and a soft peachy scent escaped his body, bringing a smile to most lips around him. Even Kuroo allowed himself to tense down, to Bokuto’s greatest happiness. 

“That’s good, then,” Kenma simply breathed out, the ever so light sketch of a smile on his lips, “We should all remember that piece of information for future… events.”

They nodded. Never again would they let one of their friends go.

There weren’t many Omegas on the Street: Kenma, Kunimi, Yaku, Shibayama, Yamaguchi, Iwaizumi, and that was it. So few of them, and already they had lost two to the enemy.

Bokuto gulped, but he had no time to overthink as Daichi spoke up. He noticed how quickly Sugawara’s head spun around to look at the Alpha, and he couldn’t help but smile again.

“According to the information Rocester has shared with the public, Alphas are supposed to go through ruts. However, since none of us has presented yet, we should look for signs of agitation, both within ourselves and our packmates.”

Kenma nodded, gazing around, “It is true, that is something we need to look into. Infiltrating their headquarters is a no-go, but we should definitely read the press and try to listen to the soldiers we see.”

“But there aren’t any,” Hinata pointed out, to which Kai shook his head, raising a hand, “Since they’ve discovered two of us, we should expect new measures. Arhiman has been rather vague on the matter, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they sent any guards or search teams.”

“B… But what should we do then?” Kindaichi gulped, straightening up despite Komi’s concerned expression, “I mean… What if we don’t even realize we’re going into ruts?”

“Look for logical signs,” Kenma simply answered, “Your glands might swell up as Yamaguchi’s did, and there might be a phenomenon of fever involved too. I’d tell you to look out for irritability too, because that’s what the news had been rambling about during the outbreak, four years ago.”

Alphas going feral. One of the first arguments Rocester had used against them.

And three years later, they were all locked up. Surely the animosity involved in Alphas’ ruts had been important enough for them to be deemed no longer human.

Kindaichi nodded and shared a nervous glance with Komi, who tried to give him a reassuring smile. Hanamaki watched him with soft concern, before turning towards the others.

“I think… That this is a pretty decent line of conduct,” he simply sighed, “We should focus on simply… protecting ourselves and laying low. As long as we don’t have any updates on the Feral Control Center and its squads, we should stick to what we can do without rousing suspicious.”

Saying so, he climbed off Oikawa’s lap, having deemed his Alpha calm enough to be left alone. Bokuto gulped, averting his eyes as he noticed the distant aloof expression on Tooru’s face. Such untold sorrow and frustration danced in his chocolate eyes, it was unbearable… 

Indeed, there was so much Oikawa probably wanted to do. So much they all wanted to do. Find a plan to save their lost friends, find a way to escape, to get rid of that genetic evolution that was ruining their youth and soon their lives.

But as Hanamaki said, as long as they didn’t know the enemy’s move, they were themselves paralysed. 

No one spoke for what seemed like an eternity, the untold intents lingering in the air like a mocking tune. What could they do? Call it a day, go home to their packmates? Tell them that they had barely learned anything new, had taken close to no action?

It was Oikawa that had called for the meeting, and he had been silenced by his own distress.

It was Hinata that had first mentioned the idea of a coalition, but his eyes still shone with the shock of an unforgettable scene.

Whatever game they were playing in that room, they were losing it.

“Lev must feel horrible,” Hinata finally whispered.

His words made Bokuto’s heart clench, and he could feel he wasn’t the only one. Kyotani averted his eyes, Tendou gazed away. Sugawara slowly wrapped his arms around the little Alpha, unable to find the right words to soothe him. What words? What could be said, anyway? That Lev was fine? 

He wasn’t. He had lost his Pack Leader and best friend. He had lost the little dark-haired man he loved so much...

“What… what do I tell him, when I get out of here?” Hinata breathed out again.

Bokuto swallowed a heavy lump, eyes prickling with the burning threat of tears.

No one answered.

“When I hear you guys talking, I understand that now is not the time for revolutionary actions or anything of the sort… But he… he’s going to wait for my report, once we’re done...”

The flame-haired Alpha gazed up, and he met the eyes of the person he trusted most, the person who had brought reason into a senseless conversation. His gaze was shimmering with distress, lips pursed together; Bokuto did not know how Kenma managed to handle that look without wavering.

“What do I tell him, when he asks me what we are going to do about Shibayama and Yaku?”

There was a tremor in his voice that rippled onto Bokuto’s heartstrings and forced him to look away.

He wished someone could speak. He wished someone could answer him. 

He yearned for a solution, a way out.

For Shibayama to run errands alongside Yaku again as Bokuto took a stroll down the Street.

For Iwaizumi to run around trying to keep Kyotani out of trouble and Oikawa from touching his butt.

For Kuroo to smile and complain the way he did whenever Yaku was around. For his voice to boom through the apartment as he unconsciously sought out the little man’s attention.

He yearned for simpler times, when Konoha would turn to him and whisper, “Ten bucks they’re fucking by the end of the month.”

He wished for the month to end.

And with it, the painful silence of an answer never to come.

“You tell him what I told Iwaizumi, on that day...” 

Bokuto’s eyes widened, and he turned around.

Oikawa’s voice was feeble, soft and without any hint of anger or sarcasm. He caught all the gazes in the room as he uttered those few words, hands wrung together as he leaned against the headrest. His eyes were lost onto the ceiling, and for a second, Bokuto thought he would not add anything more.

“You tell him that we’ll save them. That we’ll bring them back. But that for now, he has to stay quiet, and wait for the right moment to strike.”

_You gotta stay._

Urgent whispers in a deaf ear, a discreet kiss on the neck. Powerful arms around the waist, desperate thrashing and wide eyes.

_You gotta stay with me, Iwaizumi…_

There are tears streaming down Hinata’s cheeks by now, and a painful dullness in Sugawara’s eyes. 

A silence in the room, that no one dares to break. It wouldn’t shatter anyway; the pain is too thick. It’s a wall against the rest of the world, it’s denial against a monstrosity.

It’s better not to say anything.

Someone knocks on the door in the distance, and in a moment of floating sorrow, no one questioned it.

Sugawara simply stood up and turned the doorknob, letting them in.

They were three. Two soldiers in camouflage clothing, guns tied to their belts. An Asian man with short brown hair, and a dark-skinned man with a buzz-cut.

And behind them, a lean figure, with milky skin and soft jet-black hair. It’s the blue eyes that catch Bokuto’s attention and heart, and he doesn’t let go as they walk in.

They were three. Two men, and a beast. An Omega.

To the pretty face was tied a muzzle. The leather straps were sheathed in black cotton-spandex, passed behind his head, and linked to a thick choker which could only bear the name of collar. The muzzle portion ran from the bridge of his nose to the top of his throat, covered his chin and framed his jaws as well, like a mask. It was made of metal, with two small holes on each side to allow oxygen in, and was covered in the same black material.

It was a mask meant to keep this Omega from being mistaken for what he wasn’t any longer. A muzzle for a late human being.

Horror was a weak term to describe the emotion that took over the Ferals’ hearts, threatened to make each and every one of them scream and curl up in a ball.

That stranger could be any of them.

“Apologies for disturbing your… reunion,” the brown-haired soldier smiled calmly, stepping in. He took out a small federal ID, giving it to a dumb-founded Sugawara, “We are the FCC soldiers in charge of inspecting the Observation Area after the Omega Discoveries of the past week. May we come in?”

Sugawara gulped, turning around to seek Hanamaki, Matsukawa or Oikawa’s help. He immediately turned back to the soldier, clearing his throat with a nervous smile, “The… the FCC?”

“Feral Control Center. I believe my superior, Commander Arhiman, has already introduced you to the notion.”

He had a smile on his lips which screamed hypocrisy, and it took everything within Sugawara not to let his panic take over. The Ferals’ blood ran cold in their veins, stiffening their stances. 

Bokuto watched as Kuroo pressed himself to Kenma. They were short on Betas if things escalated, so if they were to go down, he would at least protect his Omega.

Koutarou shivered and imitated him, seeking comfort in the fruity scent. Kenma was fairly calm, and so were most of the Betas. He spotted Tendou raising a hand to discreetly press Ushijima’s nose to his cheek. The Alpha had his calm eyes screwed on the intruders, but he did not seem to lose his calm. If anything, Tendou’s presence allowed him to tense down almost immediately.

Bokuto’s eyes ran towards Kai, who had discreetly found his way between Daichi and Tanaka, keeping them in check with his owns pheromones. Thankfully, Tanaka was busy comforting Hinata, and had thus quickly placed him onto his lap to keep him away from the intruders. 

With Sugawara and now Hanamaki discussing with the soldier about legal issues and apartment occupancy, Nobuyuki had to keep his senses alert.

Bokuto finally took a glance at the resident Pack’s couch, fearing to see anyone in distress.

Komi had not moved an inch, as his two Alphas were already pressed against his sides. Bokuto heard him whispering comforting words into Kyotani’s ear, the Alpha visibly upset by the newly heavy atmosphere. Kindaichi, by his side, seemed more confused than scared, pressing himself closer to the Beta.

The smaller man shared a glance with Koutarou, offering him a reassuring smile. He was too far to help the other’s Pack, but he could at least propose his support.

A last look at Oikawa allowed Bokuto to conclude his instinctive check-up: the Alpha was tensed, nostrils flaring every three breaths, but Matsukawa was keeping him grounded, both hands firmly pressed to his shoulders from behind the couch. The tall Beta’s eyes were screwed on his lover with protective attention, and Bokuto gulped as he felt his own breath settle.

It was as if his instincts had begged him to make sure all of his friends were safe before allowing him to focus. 

Soon enough, he caught the conversation again, golden eyes watching the guards more than the two nervous Betas.

“Now that you are reassured about our identity, may we proceed with the inspection?” the soldier smiled calmly.

Hanamaki did a brilliant job of sighing, a hand on his hips, “I still think this is an invasion of privacy. What exactly would that inspection consist of?”

“Oh, it is very simple!” he turned around, and the other soldier pushed the Omega forward.

Bokuto tensed up, and so did most of his peers.

“We have brought a Feral specimen of the Omega type. We have rendered him inoffensive with that muzzle, of course, so you have nothing to fear.” 

He turned towards the dark-haired man, reaching for his collar. Slowly, he untied the straps linked to the choker, and removed the item by unclipping a mechanism on his nape, leaving him with nothing but the muzzle on.

Bokuto could not help but stare into those wonderful blue eyes, sharp enough for him to cut himself if he approached. They were screwed onto Hanamaki; Koutarou did not know how he managed to stare back.

“It will unleash its pheromones for the time of the inspection, so that we can detect any Feral presence in the room. Would that be okay?”

A wave of stunned silence barred them from answering for a few seconds, before Sugawara cleared his throat, passing a hand through his silver locks, “I mean… I wouldn’t exactly want a… a bestial scent all over the goods…. Don’t you think, Hanamaki?”

He shared a glance with the other Beta, who immediately nodded, “Yeah… I mean yes! I… Are you sure there is no other way?”

“Oh but don’t worry!” the soldier smiled. His eyes darkened, “Human beings cannot smell those scents.”

Bokuto’s heart sped up, and he felt Matsukawa tensing up nearby.

Hanamaki offered the officer a nervous smile, shaking his head, “But I’ll still know it’s there. I wouldn’t want that disgusting stench on my furniture, even if I cannot smell it. The idea horrifies me.”

There was a short silence, during which Bokuto was almost sure no Beta in the world would have been able to stop Oikawa if he pounced. He could practically see the muscles rolling under his shirt.

However, the soldier simply smiled, eyes lighting up again, “Of course, I understand. My superior cares about your privacy, so we wouldn’t want to intrude. We have another method of course, which doesn’t involve any scent. Would that be better?”

Hanamaki shared a glance with Sugawara, before nodding, “Sure, as long as it doesn’t ruin my rugs.”

The soldier smiled. A sly grin.

Enough to make Bokuto’s hairs stand on their end. There was a trick, a trap. There had to be.

He watched as the soldier calmly removed the fabric layer of the muzzle, without clipping the collar back on. On the metallic exoskeleton, there was a small curve running alongside the mask’s edges, and a small button. The man raised his badge towards the mask, until you could hear a soft beep; and with his other hand, he removed a large part of the muzzle, leaving only the framework.

The entire room froze. Froze before the Omega’s beauty, soft lips and sharp jaw. Froze before the realization that if he could not smell before, now he _could_.

“The Omega will now proceed to smell the air. With this information, it’ll be able to tell us whether there is or not a Feral in the room. Akaashi, would you mind?”

Akaashi. The honey-coated, venomous voice spoke the name in fake politeness, and yet underneath the sudden terror, Bokuto carved the noun onto his very bones.

He watched in stunned horror as the Omega gazed up and let his ethereal eyes run around the room, onto all those faces that let nothing to be seen. Those humans who bottled up shivers and cries and prayers to whatever god still listened to them.

And they prayed for the Omega to recognize them as family and not foe, prayed for their silent suffering to overcome the possible punishment of a failed task.

Bokuto watched as a soft smile grew on Akaashi’s features. Ethereal.

He watched as the smile widened, widened too much, until it became a sly smirk on an angelic face. A fallen angel.

Slowly, the Omega started emitting the most enticing pheromones Bokuto had ever smelt in his life. Better than Konoha’s cookie scent or Kenma’s fruity aroma; it was an ineffable perfume, made by the gods themselves.

It made his pupils widen and his stomach churn with butterflies of arousal, his blood pulse, pulse down every fibre of his being that begged him to _breed_.

_Take him._

_Take this Omega, make him yours._

_Mate and breed him._

_Protect him with your life._

But before he could act on the desire, before he could even think about moving a muscle, a storm of scents took over his nostrils, suffocating him in a ruthless and incoherent struggle that he could only describe as despair.

All the Alphas in the room had started emitting ungodly amounts of pheromones, filling the room and probably the entire Street with their whiffs. The open window would let everything spread in and out, and bar any draft of air to enter and relieve the atmosphere of the insufferable perfume.

It hit Bokuto like a truck: Akaashi was the enemy too. Akaashi had made the conscious decision to use his pheromones despite being told not to.

They needed to fight back, and so they did.

Bokuto watched as the Omega’s beautiful eyes widened, and a strangled sound escaped his lips. He saw him panting for air and squeezing his legs together, gaze glazing over with distress. His entire body was begging for him to submit, to stop, but he managed to breathe out, “It’s… They’re all… All of them are Ferals...”

His voice was angelic.

The soldiers tensed up, bringing their hands to their weapons. But before they could say anything, before panic even settled in within the Ferals, a powerful scent took over, startling even the Alphas. It was a scent they’d smelled before, a minty perfume that should be familiar and yet took them all by surprise.

It overcame the thunderstorm of Alpha pheromones; it was the scent of the resident Pack Alpha.

Oikawa stood up, eyes dark with fury, and before Matsukawa could even move a finger, he was standing in front of Akaashi.

Hanamaki and Sugawara stood aside as he approached, casting their eyes to the ground in sheer instinct.

This was not despair. This was not the sorrow of a broken man challenging a fellow Alpha.

Oikawa was protecting the entire room, and his scent had only grown stronger in consequence.

“Now now, I don’t appreciate you Stormtroopers walking in uninvited with a disgusting Omega squirming around like a bitch in heat,” he started, a smug grin on his lips, “Look at how this one is struggling to keep his legs closed. He can’t even speak without moaning.”

The brown-haired soldier shared a glance with his co-worker, before letting go of his weapon, “Sir, I-”

“Seriously, look at the audacity!” the Alpha continued, his brown eyes not even once letting go of Akaashi’s hazy pupils, “He is practically whimpering on my threshold, and he is accusing _me_ and my _friends_ of being gross, abject creatures? As he even looked at himself in the mirror? Let me laugh!”

The soldiers found themselves in quite the embarrassment, not knowing how to respond. Akaashi’s eyes, however, soon enough shone back with the fierce glimmer of fury that made Bokuto’s heart skip a beat. He was so proud, so beautiful. He looked like he could make entire nations bend to his will with a simple glare.

But just as he was about to speak, Oikawa threw himself forward so that their foreheads rested against one another and their eyes met with no escape. The Alpha towered over him, emitting such a powerful wave of pheromones Akaashi had to bite his lips not to keen. Their eyes were boiling.

“I could literally beat the shit out of you for less than that,” Oikawa seethed lowly. 

Bokuto felt his stomach sink down, and he saw Kuroo discreetly pressing a shivering Kenma to his chest. The dark-haired Alpha’s eyes were completely wide, and Bokuto realized that this duel had to end quickly if Oikawa did not want the rest of the room to succumb to his pheromones too.

This duel that was taking place against an outsider. An enemy.

This duel that did come to an end. 

Under Oikawa’s wide eyes and the room’ stupor, the soldier threw a brutal, inhuman punch at Akaashi’s temple.

The blow propelled Akaashi to the ground, the Omega holding his head as he laid shivering on the floor, strangled coughing escaping his lips; he spat out blood, spat his lungs out as stars twirled in his mind, made his stomach churn.

“You are right, sir,” the soldier said for all explanation, rubbing his painful knuckles as he offered Oikawa a calm smile, “This disgusting creature has overstepped. We had not realized its shameful behaviour could be an offending sight to our beloved citizens. Your remark will be brought to our superior by our care, and we shall find new methods to discover other Ferals. We are deeply sorry for the disturbance.”

Oikawa could not utter a single word, and nor could anyone in the room.

They watched as the other soldier kicked Akaashi’ sides, again and again, kicked his ribs, his head, his back, until the Omega finally stood up. The impact of the fist against the metallic structure of his muzzle had drawn a thin trickle of blood that was running from his cheekbone to his chin.

And yet he kept such a furious, unbent glimmer in the eyes that made the resident Alpha shiver.

They watched without a single word as the soldiers bowed and escaped, dragging behind them a blue-eyed devil that limped and shivered.

A devil in sky-coloured clothing, muzzled and chained, who had tried to put up a fight against free, powerful Alphas who outmanned him in every way possible.

And just like that, they had let the monsters take away another one of theirs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo!  
> I'm one day late on schedule again (might as well tell you guys I'll post every 2 weeks + 1 day but I feel like I'll end up posting two days later instead of one so ugh)
> 
> Oh boy, Akaashi's back, are you guys happy? (No you're not, I know. First I made Kaashi a villain and now he's getting muzzled and beaten up? Ahhh what a mean author I am...)  
> But you should be happy cause it's the first chapter in Bokuto's POV since chapter 1 :D 
> 
> Pop quizz~~  
> \- How did you like Hinata's role in that chapter? Kenma's? Oikawa's?  
> \- Do you think they are right for taking their time with the "revolution"?   
> \- Do you think romance is gonna happen soon or do you think they are all too shocked/dumb to realize they have potential mates at hand?  
> \- What did you think of Akaashi in this chapter? His role, his depiction?   
> \- Do you think Bokuto is idealizing Akaashi too much, or is the raven-haired beauty truly an angel in disguise?
> 
> Alright folks, that's all for today! See you guys in another two weeks!  
> Oh, and I've made the "Ask the Characters" thing into a side story, called "Ask the Ferals with Reporter Bokuto and Cameraman Kenma", on AO3 too. The first chapter is up if you wanna take a look ;)
> 
> I'm still inviting you to ask some questions fro the characters here if you wish to, but whatever you ask will be answered in the relevant Ask the Ferals' chapter (although there is no specific update schedule for this side-fic cause it is by definition a side-fic lmao)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I'll see you in two weeks! Now I'm going to bed cause it's 2am...  
> Buh-bye~~


	7. Pick up the Pace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The awful morning and the Alpha Meeting finally come to an end with three last reflexions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: crude language/ slut-shaming/ mentions of rape /mentions of Omegaverse-related mating cycles and biology/ violence / blood / PTSD

Akaashi’s entire body was hurting, but that wasn’t the worst part of his current situation. Being dragged by the hair down a flight of stairs was more painful than the rough hands pulling and pushing him into the Street, and being chained and whipped was far more traumatizing than receiving a few kicks and a punch.

If anything, Akaashi had not been much fazed by the hits, but rather by the burning humiliation of being disavowed in front of his targets.

He’d been shamed and beaten by soldiers and scientists alike for long enough to consider them mere bugs biting at his skin, sucking the blood right out of his heart. Fight all the mosquitoes you want, you’ll be lucky if you squash one. So when you are shackled, you don’t fight at all; it would be stupid to break your wrists to chase away non-lethal nuisances.

Akaashi coughed and grunted, shivering with the aftermath of being assaulted by so many Alpha scents. Their aggressivity had made his stomach sink, blanked his mind out; he’d felt his body cave in, felt his entire being giving in to the irrational fear that he was going to get slaughtered.

The shame of being unable to fight back only deepened his fury.

He raised a neon blue glare to the two soldiers; the brown-haired one was pacing in front of them, hands folded being his back as he came and went on the pavement. The Omega groaned, feeling the dark-skinned man's rough grip on his wrists, pinning them against his spine.

He couldn’t help a low snarl despite the haze clouding his mind and the throbbing pain in his skull, “I said they were Ferals. They were obviously lying, and they used their pheromones to overwhelm me. You can’t possibly be gullible enough to believe-”

“Shut up, Akaashi, shut the _fuck_ up.”

The wounded Omega fell silent, half-folded onto himself. The soldier in his back was practically holding him up, which meant he was in no position to talk back.

However, he’d never been in any position to talk back to begin with. Akaashi raised his head, chin dribbling with the blood he had spat out after biting his tongue, and his right eye half-closed as a thin trickle of blood dripped from his forehead over his lashes. 

His defiant glare met the furious eyes of his superior in between the messy strands of sweat-matted ebony locks.

“Oh, so now I have a name…”

The soldier got closer, and the one behind his back pulled on his wrists to make him straighten up. They were lucky the Street was mostly empty, lucky people preferred hanging out in their rooms or in the parks rather than on the concrete prison.

Akaashi winced, but didn’t look away.

“Look at yourself, Akaashi… You’re in a sorry state, and those eyes of yours...” He passed a hand through the wild hair, before yanking him forward. Akaashi let out a low groan, assaulted by the tobacco scent of his breath, “You look even wilder, aren’t you ashamed?”

He let go of his hair, turning around to light a cigarette with jerky hands. Was he nervous? Good. He’d failed his mission, and Akaashi wouldn’t be the one to answer to Arhiman.

Behind him, the buzz-cut soldier cleared his throat. 

“So what do we do, sir?” he asked, squeezing Akaashi’s wrists, “We cannot go back to the Commander without-”

“Yes I know, I _know,_ Parker. Except those bastards raised a good point: it’s insulting to barge into people’s homes and have this… those _things_ sniffing them out.”

Akaashi rolled his eyes, stretching his shoulders as he could; his muscles were killing him already, and he could feel they would be stiff for a week at least.

“Please,” he sighed, “Police dogs have sniffed people’s bags at airports for years and no one has ever complained.”

The soldier turned to him, a flicker in his eyes that made Akaashi believe that, for a second, he’d marked a valid point. Made him believe that they would go back, arrest those Ferals, and bring him back home without further public embarrassment. The endoskeleton of his muzzle rubbed against his skin in uncomfortable friction, and any second spent outside would only add to his marking.

Akaashi watched as the brown-haired man approached again. He flinched as he reached behind his ear, blowing a volute of intoxicating smoke right in his face. Keiji glared him down, before inhaling the grey volute in defiance; his reaction only made the soldier smirk.

A metallic click sounded right by his ear, and to his surprise, the mask got looser, until the other man took it off completely.

Akaashi blinked, stretching his jaw in disbelief.

“I’ll tell you what, _search bitch_ ,” the soldier grinned, “If you’re so keen on sniffing them out, do so. The Commander wants results, not a lawsuit. Wouldn’t it be a shame if he were to learn that an Omega snarled and insulted his precious citizens? Surely, we wouldn’t want that...”

He pressed the cigarette to his lips, and inhaled long enough for Akaashi to imagine a hundred ways of murdering him right on the spot.

“You’re gonna stay here, ‘Kaashi~ Right on that Street, with no right to enter any building or shop, no right to leave the perimeter. And you’ll sniff them out, like a good mutt, finding evidence whether it be by listening or smelling their shits.”

Akaashi frowned, blue eyes clouding over with the metallic undertones of storms.

“Arhiman will not allow it-”

He was cut short by a large musky hand grabbing his face, sweating palm against his nose, nails clawing at his jaws. Akaashi saw red, but bit his tongue not to snap back.

“Careful, little pup,” the soldier hummed, leaning in, an inch away, “You wouldn’t want me to put that muzzle back on, would you? Would make the whole task of eating and drinking a lot more complicated…”

He grinned, dark gaze so feral Akaashi almost wanted to scoff at him. His grip loosened on the Omega’s face, and he took a step back.

“I’ll tell the Commander this is the best option,” he continued, “We’ll be able to show off how tame you are, and at least your state will scare off those Ferals… It’s time they get a snippet of what awaits them.”

He reached for his pocket, tacking out the metallic collar. Akaashi squinted, throat tightening. Unlike what the media fed the public, the ornament barely even lowered the emission rates of Feral pheromones. It was but a pretty show for the population, for the masses to believe chemical weapons against the wild beasts were already developed and functional.

In truth, Ferals had a complex genetic makeup, making their mutation hard to track, identify, and control. But mass-extermination was no way to convince the moderate masses: the hope for a cure was a far better argument. 

First search for a way to control, and then a way to heal.

By showing off those collars, Rocester proved that he was nearing that goal.

Yet, those were loads of bullshit: the real intent was to make the populations see Ferals for what the Control Centers wanted them to be seen as: tamed dogs.

“You see, Akaashi, I don’t like you,” the soldier continued, passing the metallic collar around his thin neck, “Not that I’ve known you for long, or that it has anything to do with your natural desire to spread your legs like a bitch. It’s more… personal.”

He adjusted the collar, and Akaashi’s gaze didn’t flicker the slightest. He stared right back into those hateful eyes with the cold fury of chained beasts.

“It’s just that, you disgust me…” He smiled and, just as Keiji thought he would lock the item, he felt the tightening continue, tighter than ever before, “You disgust me in so many ways, the worst of which being how _attractive_ you are.”

Panic sprung from Akaashi’s chest as the other man let the collar squeeze his throat until the metal bit his skin, constricting his airflow. His eyes widened, and he struggled to swallow, watching the other with renewed tension.

“You are so fucking attractive, Akaashi, it’s driving me insane. That look in your eyes, that slender body, just meant to be bent – oh I could just make you _snap_ and you would _beg_ for more.”

An unintentional shiver shook Keiji’s body, and he couldn’t explain it. He believed it to be fear – hoped that it was all there was to it.

The soldier grinned, a breath away, his smokey scent worsening the dryness of the Omega’s throat.

And the tightening stopped. Stopped just before it reduced Akaashi’s breathing to a wheeze, just before the metal could tear his sensitive skin apart. It stopped there, leaving him on the verge – just on the verge of the intolerable.

Just enough to be inhumane.

The soldier took a step back, proud of his work judging by the glimmer in his eyes as he dropped the cigarette to the ground.

“We haven’t been presented, I think. I’m Sergeant Pang.” He flashed him a proud smile, “First impressions do matter, don’t they?”

Akaashi felt blood boiling in his veins, enough to make him emit a soft amount of pheromones he did not even seek to contain. His pretty face was twisted in blind fury as he crushed his teeth together not to snarl at him.

And beyond this anger, there was instinct. He could kill this man.

Just let go of his wrists, and he would latch at his throat, tear it apart with his bare teeth. How foolish of him not to protect that jugular better: Pang should be the one wearing that pretty collar, Akaashi didn’t need the protection. 

He was a trained fighter, Commander Arhiman’s Pretty Hound. He’d been trained in the harshest ways to be able to become an inhuman soldier in later versions of Rocester’s potential world. Elite beings, never spared nor addressed, nameless dogs to throw into battles like weapons.

Ferals were worthless to him when free, worthless when cured; only their potential mattered, and everything rested on the Control Centers’ ability to make the population believe they were no more than dogs.

So Akaashi, even if restrained and wounded, did not fear pain, nor death; he was already a beast.

Icy cerulean eyes met the soldier’s.

“Well, Sergeant Pang,” he articulated, throat dry and voice low, “If first impressions matter, let me make mine memorable.”

The sergeant frowned, and under his disbelieving eyes, Akaashi’s lips twisted into a devilish grin, “Fuck. You.” 

Pang bit his lips, gaze firing up with fury, and he launched himself forward with a raised fist. Akaashi did not flinch, nor dodge. Instead, his airy voice stopped him.

The demon eyed beauty had shifted into an angel again, offering him a honey-coated smile.

“No no no ~ Keep that punch in,” he purred in a sultry voice, “Wouldn’t want to damage the Commander’s bitch, would you?”

Pang stared him down like a wild dog, and Akaashi felt himself alike a cat, gently rubbing himself under the drooling beast’s neck.

He watched with a satisfied smile as the sergeant took a step back, indicating for Parker to follow him with a quick gesture. The other soldier scrambled after him, a spark of satisfaction igniting Akaashi’s chest as he kept his eyes low.

“You have a week, Akaashi,” Pang growled, dark eyes meeting his, “Past that, you’ll be receiving the punishment entailed by a failed mission, and even the Commander won’t be able to protect you. So don’t go around doing nothing or presenting your pussy to your fellow beasts.”

Akaashi rolled his shoulders and rubbed his wrists, looking nowhere near worried.

Making friends was no option, and keeping his legs closed was evident.

These men were threats, enemies. They stood in between him and safety, in between him and the place he had built for himself in the Control Centre.

And beyond that, they had made it clear that they were aggressive creatures, ready to drown him in pheromones, even to abuse him. “Punch the shit out of him”, as that pretty brunet had even seethed to his face.

Akaashi shrugged, not sparing him a single glance now that he was freed, “Sure, but remember that, Sergeant.”

He gazed up, blue eyes shining with cold amusement, “I never fail.” 

*****

Kuroo’s brain wouldn’t stop pounding against his skull, as if attempting to crush the cage open and run. Yet, as developed as they were, organs couldn’t flee without limbs, and for the improvised pack, it seemed as if each of their four members had been cleanly cut off.

Without legs to run nor arms to reach out for one another, they were doomed.

He gazed around the room to witness the aftermath of the soldiers’ visits, and saw in each face such a look of horror and shortness of breath that he almost lost all hope.

Pheromones lingered in the air like a layer of poison, slowly oozing off through the window as they tried to cope with the amount of information they had just received.

The Control Centre had launched Discovery Operations.

They had equipment to tame Ferals.

They had Ferals. And they used them to discover others.

The memory of Akaashi’s cold gaze and sly smile sent a shiver up his spine, and he wrung his hands together to breathe better.

The whole meeting had been going fairly well after Kenma’s taking over, so why did it have to end in such a way? Why couldn’t they have a moment of rest, a small victory in a war that they were so likely to lose already?

The Alpha shivered, before feeling a warm weight wrapping around his shoulders. He gazed up, meeting Bokuto’ soft golden eyes. His friend seemed terribly upset, yet he appreciated the comforting presence as well as his warm attempt at producing soothing pheromones.

“Are you okay?” he breathed out, pressing his forehead to his temple.

Kuroo leaned in against him, surprised at how his shoulders relaxed at once. His hands immediately sought his out, squeezing them in affectionate reassurance. Funny, how physical affection had become so important to them… 

In any other world, maybe he wouldn’t have even tried to reach for Bokuto’ arm or cheek, and here they were, a breath away.

Tenderness sprung from within when the outside gets colder.

“I’m fine, how about you? You kinda froze when they walked in…”

Bokuto blinked, shaking his head softly, “Oh, I don’t know… I was surprised I guess. I’m good, don’t worry.”

They spoke in hushed tones, like secrets, and they were not the only ones. From the corner of his eyes, Kuroo saw Sugawara walking back towards Ushijima and Tendou, looking as shocked as could be. The red-haired Beta immediately stood up to welcome him, pressing a tender kiss to his temple, arms wrapped around his shoulders.

He couldn’t hear them from where he stood, but Kuroo could see Satori whispering soft words into his ear as Koushi practically fell into his arms, a hand on his lips to muffle his horror. Tendou brought him towards Ushijima, who stood up to press them against his chest.

Tetsurou had never seen him much, but he felt a twitch in his heart upon seeing the glimmer of stress and concern that animated his gaze as he nuzzled against his Betas’ hair, soothing them as he could.

Kuroo heard a few voices aside, and turned towards Daichi, Kai and Tanaka. The two Alphas and the Beta were surrounding Hinata, gently soothing him, careful not to overwhelm him. 

The young redhead was smiling softly, only his voice betraying his distress, “I’m fine guys, I promise...”

His voice, and the unstoppable tears of stress that were streaming down his cheeks no matter how much he wiped them away. He wasn’t sobbing nor shaking, yet it seemed as if he couldn’t stop the flow. Kuroo saw Kai rubbing his hair with a gentle gaze, Daichi crouching aside and rubbing his knees, while Tanaka sat closer, a hand around his shoulders. Despite their reassuring words, they looked strained, with weary smiles and dull eyes. 

The sight made Kuroo shiver, and he turned around to check on Kenma. The young Omega was leaning against Bokuto’s back, uncharacteristically close. The Alpha gulped.

“Kenma, hey...”

Bokuto blinked and looked above his shoulders, watching as Kenma shifted in his seat to gaze at them. His eyes were a bit dizzy with remaining pheromones, but he simply sighed.

“If you’re going to get all worried on me, don’t even start.”

Kuroo blinked. Some things never changed.

He saw Bokuto’s eyes lighting up with amusement, and the grey-haired Alpha sprawled himself on top of the little Omega.

“Aw Kenma, you’re okay~”

“You’re crushing me, Bokuto. Literally.”

Kuroo watched them and their gentle banter, seeing for only difference in their behaviour the softness of their voice in a silent room. His eyes ran over to the resident pack’s couch to take their state in.

Komi was still pressing his two Alphas close, as comforting as could be given the circumstances. Kindaichi was whispering to him, shivering against his smaller frame, and the Beta answered in soft smiles and nods. Kyotani seemed unresponsive, but Tetsurou was pretty sure he was listening to them, clinging to their conversation for comfort… 

For a brief moment, he found himself wondering if he had not been missing out on cues from his flatmates. He thought that maybe, had he been more careful, he’d have been able to soothe them with such efficiency, able to hug them without feeling out of place.

Maybe he’d have even been able to make Kunimi feel at home with them. 

With a defeated gulp, he cast his eyes to the ground; he’d been wrong all along. He’d pushed away their instinctive traits, refused to get them to know their own bodies, and now they had paid the price. 

He should have known that Konoha could have protected them from the pheromone attacks.

He should have known bringing Kenma was a bad idea.

He should be able to control his own pheromones by now; damnit, maybe he had impacted his own hormonal development through his denial…

A storm of emotions took over his mind, self-hatred and despair crashing like thunder. He’d almost been swallowed by the flood when a soft voice reached out.

“Hey, don’t make such a face, you’ll get wrinkles.”

The Alpha blinked, opening incredulous eyes only to face a glass of water. As he gazed up, he met Hanamaki’s kind expression, a grin on the lips.

“Here, here, with eyes like yours I’d always be looking up~”

He winked, and from a corner of the room, Kuroo heard Matsukawa’s voice.

“Makki, you absolute useless flirt…”

“Oh shush Mattsun, you love it~”

Tetsurou took the glass with a hesitant smile, too confused to be reached by the flirtatious tone. He spared a glance behind Hanamaki as he took a sip, and saw Matsukawa handing out a few other glasses around the room. 

The clear liquid made him realize just how thirsty he had been, and he felt incredible thankfulness for the two Betas.

“You’re a life-saviour, Hanamaki...” he mumbled.

The pink-haired man’s eyes lit up, and he turned towards his boyfriend, “Look! It worked, he flirted back.”

“No, he didn’t. At most, he took you in pity.”

Takahiro gasped, pressing his hands to his hips, “In _pity_? Excuse you, I’m the greatest flirt you’ll ever see!”

Matsukawa finished handing out his glasses, before giving his partner a sultry look, “That you are~”

Hanamaki’s reaction was immediate; Kuroo saw him bringing his hands to his face in a dramatic gesture, “Oh Mattsun, you charmer~”

And as if the world wasn’t crashing down and burning around them, the two men swaggered their way towards one another, the greatest flirt wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s neck while the latter amorously took hold of his hips.

Kuroo watched them with no other thoughts than sheer confusion.

And then it hit him. 

He noticed how the couple’s antics caught Hinata’s attention, brought an amused smile to his lips. Saw Sugawara’s hesitant gaze emerging from the safety of his packmates’ chests.

He watched as the whole room lit up with gentle enjoyment as they kissed each other like American actors would, Matsukawa sweeping his boyfriend off his feet.

“Get a room!” Komi teased, making Kindaichi and Kyotani smile lightly.

Kuroo observed as the place was suddenly filled with tender cheerfulness and, at last, allowed himself to relax.

He still had a lot to learn, apparently… 

The Alpha felt Bokuto nuzzling against him, a whine catching his attention, “Kurooooooo, Kenma bit me...”

“I barely nibbled at your hand.”

“YOU BIT ME.”

Kuroo sighed, squeezing his friend against his chest for all comfort. His eyes sought Kenma’s, who was lying back on the couch, staring at the ceiling.

A shiver ran up his spine; he knew the Omega’s brain was rushing with new ideas, new possibilities, new outcomes.

For now, they needed to rest, to heal their souls from the shock of it all.

But time was against them, and even Kenma was aware of that.

The fact lurked beneath the cheerfulness of their home, like a snake on its way to a slaughter: they couldn’t afford to wait anymore.

They had to get Yaku and Shibayama back, and leave. Far away. Hide. 

Anything, as long as they escaped.

But before he could say anything to reassure his little friend, Bokuto’s voice rose from his chest, soft and exhausted.

“Hey, where’s Oikawa?”

*****

Oikawa Tooru was a coward, and had always been.

When talented people started overpowering him at school and in sports, he panicked and worked himself into injuries just to keep his head out of the water.

Oikawa Tooru had always been a coward, but he had also always been instinctive.

When his body shifted, when his own boyfriend started feeling strange needs and sensations, he barely even noticed it.

He’d always been all fire, all action, all _now_ , to an extent which had brought him to turn instinct into his only weapon against talent.

So when he became a Feral, Oikawa Tooru had thought he would be able to keep everything under control.

And he failed.

He saw two friends beaten and taken away, and could only hold onto his lover.

He saw a group of persecuted people waiting for his words and leadership, and he let them down.

Control was slipping right through his fingers, like a success never quite reached, and it frustrated him. It brought him to the verge of tears, brought his heart to the extremes of suffering.

He couldn’t handle the sight of their painful gazes, the aftermath of an encounter with demons, couldn’t handle the idea of having to cheer them up. After all, he had failed to offer them guidance already, so who was he to stand before them and call for calmness?

Who was he to speak up?

The distress simply was too great, and so when he managed to, Oikawa slipped away, away from his own home and from those people he couldn’t protect. He went down the stairs in silent shame, buried his hands in his pockets, eyes cast onto the ground; he escaped.

The greyish lightof autumn welcomed him in insipid coldness, and he hurried along the pavement to reach Building 3. Iwaizumi’s arms had always been the only place in which he could find safety when the world got too loud or too silent, and so the brunet let his steps guide him towards his lover.

To Hell with safety, with avoiding the Discovered’s roommates like the plague until suspicious glares stopped; they would never do. They’d always be frowned upon, and there would always be an undercover soldier at a street corner, or a goddamn _traitor_ to threaten them on their doorstep.

They would be endless outcasts.

Oikawa shivered, the memory of the stranger’s evil eyes haunting him. Oh what he’d give to see him again, behind closed doors, and make him pay for it as humans did. Arguing, throwing fists at most, without ever needing to shower him in pheromones of aggression.

The Alpha gulped, pushing the door of the Building open, quickly making his way towards the apartment to avoid staying a moment longer in the cold grey staircase. His throat tightened; he wished he could have simply talked to him. That blue-eyed Omega couldn’t be that different. 

Contradictions merged in his mind, from the instinctive need to protect him to the anger of seeing his friends’ safety put in jeopardy. He shivered on the threshold, fiddling in his pockets as he tried to keep himself grounded. Surely seeing Iwaizumi would appease his mind…

The Alpha knocked, and the door opened in a matter of seconds, revealing Yahaba’s pale frame. Oikawa couldn’t help but smile; the young Beta was a very kind person, and he’d sometimes come over with Iwaizumi to hang out with them.

Yahaba’s exhausted eyes widened, and his hand clenched on the wooden plank.

“Oikawa… What are you doing here?” he breathed out, gazing down.

Tooru faked a bright smile, “Yo, Yahaba-chan~ I came here to see Iwawa, can I come in?”

A hint of disgust spread through his chest upon hearing his own deceitful cheerfulness, but he couldn’t bear to burden anyone else with his own insecurities.

He saw Yahaba stepping aside, throwing him a confused gaze.

“Weren’t you guys supposed to avoid us for a bit? It’s… dangerous...”

The inside of the apartment was filled with the light fragrance of pungent distress. Oikawa didn’t even need to see them to know Lev and Iwaizumi were in pain, and it made his heart ache even more.

“Mmmmh I decided I couldn’t care less,” Oikawa simply sighed, winking at him, “And I’m here to offer you guys my company. You should be grateful~”

Yahaba did not seem much convinced, but he didn’t say anything. The sight brought a genuine smile to Oikawa’s lips, and he pressed a hand to the boy’s hair.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay, alright? I promise we’re good, I won’t stay for long… Where’s Lev, by the way?”

He knew the young Alpha had been greatly impacted by the loss of his two Omegas, and he had a thousand reasons to be. Oikawa didn’t know how he would survive if Kindaichi or Komi were taken away from him in such circumstances, and they weren’t even Omegas; Lev’s distress was the starkest scent in the apartment.

Yahaba swallowed dryly, “He’s out on a walk… He needed the fresh air, I think…” 

Oikawa gulped; he’d have to try and talk to him later.

The young Beta shook his head, offering him a weak smile, “It’s good that you’re here, anyway… I think Iwaizumi needs you…”

The name made his hairs stand on their ends and his pupils widen; oh he was way too weak when it came to his lover…

Oikawa watched as Yahaba walked away to sit on his couch, a book in hands. He took a moment to observe his heavy eyebags, pale lips, the mess that was his light brown hair, and he couldn’t help himself.

Gently, he started emitting some soothing pheromones, knowing full well that if they didn’t have much impact on Betas, they could at least cover the distressing scent of the apartment.

Yahaba shivered, gazing up so that their eyes met. Oikawa saw him smiling softly, “You should get going, Oikawa. He’ll probably want a full summary of the meeting.”

Tooru grinned, turning towards him with an encouraging chuckle, “Well, don’t _you_ want to hear about it?”

The young Beta thought for a few seconds, making Oikawa hope he would accept his presence for a bit longer. 

“No, thank you,” he finally smiled, a saddened glimmer in his eyes, “I’m… I’m not ready yet.”

Tooru watched him, scanning his features, and found nothing but peace and fragility. They were running out of time, but he knew better than to force communication out of a shocked person.

He’d just have to be extra careful and attentive to the other man...

“Fair enough,” he smiled, walking towards the corridor, “If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

His smile melted into a grin as he smirked, “And don’t hesitate to come over someday. I’m sure Kyoken-chan misses you~”

And on that playful note and Yahaba’s blushing cheeks, Oikawa headed towards Iwaizumi’s room.

He knew for a fact that Kyotani and Yahaba had met on the Street, and that the days following that encounter had been filled with Makki complaining about how much pheromones the short-fused Alpha was producing.

Now Oikawa wasn’t blind, nor was he a nosy person; yet, nothing could stop him from becoming the godly matchmaker he had always been meant to be.

The way to Iwaizumi’s room was imprinted on his very skin, and his pupils widened more and more with every step he took towards his saddened lover. Soon, he’d be able to hold him against his chest and caress his sorrows away, to the limits of his own abilities. The thought made his heart ache with both anticipation and distress.

The young Alpha knocked but didn't wait for an answer. He walked inside the feebly lit room, closing the door as he pressed a hand to his nose. The room was filled with a lingering stench of sorrow and despair, far from Iwaizumi's usual scent. 

Oikawa's heart twitched as he noticed the bundle of sheets on the bed, noticing his lover laying amongst the nest of his own misery.

He watched with a feeble smile as Hajime gazed up, and lost his breath to the sight.

Iwaizumi's eyes were reddened with tears and exhaustion, and his spiky hair was more of a mess than it had ever been. For a second, Oikawa almost thought his lover did not recognize him, for he did not respond, not even sitting up to greet him or complain about his minty scent.

Nothing came, and the silence burdened Tooru's heart with concern.

"Hey, Iwa-chan..." he breathed out, taking a step forward as he emitted soothing pheromones for his lover only to smell.

His instincts were screaming at him to slaughter the reason for Iwaizumi's pain, to pick him up and squeeze him tight against his chest. If he could, he would never leave again.

The Omega's eyes glimmered softly, sparking hope in Oikawa' soul. He watched as Iwaizumi gently took out a hand from beneath the messy sheet, reaching up for his lover to approach.

Oikawa didn't need to be asked twice. Even in sickness or in pain, standing next to his sweet Omega was enough to boost him and make him feel like he could rule the world again.

Oikawa sat down against him, taking the small hand and squeezing tight; the action brought a smile to Iwaizumi's lips that stole a heartbeat out of his chest.

He would die for those green eyes...

"You got in trouble, didn't you, Shittykawa..."

The gruff voice was too fond and sweet for Oikawa to complain, yet he let a little pout grow on his lips.

"How did you know...?" he breathed out.

The weakened Omega chuckled; the sound made his body shiver, and for the first time in his life, Oikawa feared Iwaizumi might just shatter. His small, bulky, dependable boyfriend seemed so frail it hurt.

"Well, for starters, you smell..."

Oikawa would have gotten mad had his words not been spoken with such a soft smile; Iwaizumi knew him by heart anyway. He knew which buttons to push to make him confess, which smiles to offer to get himself out of trouble – not that Oikawa could stay mad at him for long anyway...

The Alpha sighed softly; in the mournful silence of Iwaizumi's room, he felt like any sound louder than a whisper would be out of place.

"Why thanks, Iwa-chan. Coming from you, it's a compliment."

He knew Iwaizumi loved his scent as much as he loved his. It was natural, instinctive. They were Alpha and Omega, partners for years, childhood sweethearts.

If anything, they would have adored each other even if they had ended up being Betas, or both Alphas or Omegas. They were soulmates, and that fact was as much a decision on their behalf as it was a play of fate.

Iwaizumi chuckled and shook his head; the feeble movement dimmed the light in Oikawa's eyes, waking him to the reality of their situation. If someone was smelling bad in this room, it was Hajime. The Omega's distress was heart-wrecking, especially to his Alpha instincts. 

A well-known desire crept his way into his chest as his eyes drifted towards the crook of his tanned neck; the desire the nuzzle there, and bite.

It hadn't taken long for the Ferals to realize that the glands seemed to be the source of their emissions as well as a vector for their affectionate behaviours. However, Oikawa's needs were different: Iwaizumi was his lover, and somehow, he couldn't help this terrible drive to bite on those glands.

He knew Hanamaki and Matsukawa shared the same issue, but from what they told him, their need to bite was much less important. 

He was also aware of his own feelings regarding his packmates: Alphas or Betas alike, he felt the absolute need to caress their necks, sometimes even to chew on them, even if that desire was far less important than when he was with Iwaizumi.

Yet he held on, and the rest of the Ferals probably all did; any kind of bite mark could be of terrible consequences if noticed by the wrong person.

Plus, they had no way of knowing what the effects would be; the bite would be near their scent glands, after all. It could trigger their heats or ruts, for all they knew, or make them shift into actual animals!

Iwaizumi seemed to notice the way his partner chewed on his lips, and he raised a muscled arm to reach for his neck. Oikawa was surprised to feel his strong hand wrap around his nape, pressing him down, closer and closer until the Alpha was laying against him, nuzzling against his lover's neck.

He felt his hormones boiling, yet soon enough, Iwaizumi's reassuring scent loosened the tension in his muscles. Oikawa let out a soft sigh of relief, resting there against the love of his life.

"You're putting too much pressure on yourself, Tooru..."

His heart sped up upon hearing his name pronounced in such a tender voice, and he closed his eyes to enjoy the Omega's touch. Iwaizumi sounded, smelt and looked exhausted, but Oikawa found out he enjoyed the unusual softness in his lover’s voice. Not that he didn’t like his feisty little Iwa-chan, but a groggy and sleepy darling wasn’t too bad to nuzzle against either.

"Someone has to..." he breathed out, "They're sending soldiers and trained Omegas to sniff us out... Everyone panicked, and now this kid Kenma tells us we have to wait? I just don't get it... I don't get how they're so calm, Iwaizumi..."

He spoke in hushed tones, tender confession in a silent room. All he could hear and feel was Iwaizumi's presence, his breath, his warmth...

He liked to believe it was his own caresses that had allowed the Omega to emit such a sweet perfume...

He liked to believe he wasn't a curse for everyone he talked to.

Hajime listened to him, his hands lazily rubbing his brown locks as he kept watching him.

Oikawa gazed up, meeting his kind green eyes with helpless affection.

"Am I the bad guy for thinking ahead, Hajime? Is... Isn't there something we should do, for Yaku, for Shiba-"

"Oikawa."

He felt Iwaizumi stiffen up, but before he could apologize for his rant, soft lips pressed against his. His lover cupped his cheeks in tender gestures, offering him an ethereal perfume, made just for him.

Oikawa melted against him, shivering in relief. He'd never thought he would have needed a kiss that badly in his life...

Gently, Iwaizumi rested his forehead against his amidst the safety of the sheets.

"We will do something, Oikawa. We will find a way," he breathed out, "But for now, we are all shocked, you included."

Oikawa opened his mouth to argue, but Iwaizumi pressed a finger to his lips; he'd forgotten how authoritative the other man could be when he wasn't in mourning.

"If we don't have time to gather information and build a fully safe plan, at least give us the time to heal our wounds so we can run faster."

Doubts and fears became distant memories as Oikawa watched his lover, eyes widening with love and adoration. Iwaizumi was right, as always. 

He was the most perfect being on this planet, and together they would rule the world.

How could he even forget that?

A soft smile appeared on his lips, immediately matched by his lover. 

He watched as Iwaizumi sighed and pressed him close to his chest under the sheets, relishing in his presence just as much as Oikawa was relishing in his.

"Now, tell me exactly what happened his morning, Shittykawa…"

They would pull through in due time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I'm TWO days late on schedule this time, AND this is a poorly written chapter, and my only excuse is that I'm sick lmao SO SORRY  
> But hum, three parts instead of two, with two new character perspectives AND the long-awaited Iwa-chan! Am I forgiven yet? (no?okaysorry)
> 
> So um before we start I have a little thing that I need your "serious" opinion on.  
> It has come to my attention that the "Mom Squad" joke is getting old in the fandom (apparently), and that it might trigger our trans friends OR make it seem like men cannot be nurturing.  
> I am thus taking the opportunity to state my case: femininity is universal and masculinity too. Just like non-binary or bisexual are umbrella terms, I consider these two (fem and masc) as non-exclusive AND non-exhaustive. They are labels, at most, or at least we as a generation should strive to make them so.
> 
> Me making the Omegas having maternal scents AND those same Omegas being mostly from the "Mom Squad" is simply a cute headcanon, and I am in no way undermining their "masculinity". In fact, I like to believe my "feminine" (or female characters in general) are well-written and diverse, which leads up to my friendly reminder that being feminine is totally valid and not shameful.  
> Furthermore, although I find the Mom Squad headcanon cute, I understand that the characters are more than "moms", and I thus think that "headcanons" such as this one are not harmful as long as they are not used to (1) reduce the characters to their fanon version and (2) effectively undermine "masculine" people's ability to be nurturing (as I explained before)  
> I also need to state that even if Omegas in my story have "motherly" characteristics (ie milky scent), it is only a question of hierarchy and personal dynamic. For instance, even if they are the only Omegas of the pack, Kunimi and Kenma do not have a motherly scent, while both Yaku and Iwaizumi do. Moreover, protective and affectionate behaviour is also portrayed in Betas, with Mattsun, Makki or Komi, as well as in Alphas, with Bokuto, Kuroo, and even Oikawa. This is a fic about Pack Dynamics, and the dynamics I have chosen are really affectionate ones, which means that both characters with "masculine" and "feminine" energy are going to be nurturing OR already are.
> 
> THAT SAID, I am aware of the implications of "feminization", and even if Omegaverse AUs obviously involve a form of it in the case of Omegas (with heats and mpreg as well as, in some cases, oppression similar to women's), I wish to hear about your perspectives so as to make sure I do not offend anyone:  
> \- do you find my depiction of Omegas (and in some respect Betas) problematic (ex: milky scent, "maternal" instincts, caregivers of the packs, emotional supports)?  
> \- if so, should I change it?
> 
> Sorry for that serious bit and thank you in advance for answering ;)
> 
> OKAY BACK TO MY DUMB STORY -> POP QUIZZ:  
> \- oh dear, Akaashi's POV has been enabled: what do you think of it? How do you feel about him?  
> \- Alpha Meeting's finally over (at last lmao), what happens next?  
> \- how do you feel about Oikawa now that you have seen his POV? And Iwaizumi?
> 
> I hope you enjoy the story so far, and I thank you so much for reading!  
> Comments are always more than welcome!  
> I'll try to update "Ask the Ferals" by next chapter but I can't promise anything!!
> 
> See you in two weeks (if I'm not late)!!


	8. Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo wants to protect those he loves, but a blue-eyed Omega is on everyone's mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS: graphic decription of violence / slut-shaming / explicit language / rough language / mention of suicidal thoughts / mention of death and death threats
> 
> Important info in the notes. See below the text.

“Hey, fuckface!”

Akaashi’s heart twisted in a tension that his face had learnt never to show. _Fuckface_ was an original nickname, and although he couldn’t say he liked it, he had to give that young man credit for the effort.

After all, he’d been called a bunch of different pet names over the last four years. Most recurrent one was _slut_ , or maybe _whore._

 _Beautiful_ was fairly common too, to an extent that made him want to claw his face out and tear his skin apart until it was unfuckable.

Akaashi kept his eyes on the Street, and let the stranger speak his venom until its last drop; men liked to spew insults at a listening ear, and women preferred to hide their fangs under pretty smiles. As for the rest – people in general, or those who did not fit in, they simply varied.

Monstrosity was a spectrum too, and Akaashi was lucky enough to know its scale by heart.

“Hey, I’m talking to you. Look at me, you bitch!”

Ah, there it goes. Another infamous nickname he’d learnt to wear without shedding a tear. 

Akaashi did not respond to the insult; all he needed was his ears to make sure the other man was keeping his distance. His blue eyes scanned the Street, registered its moving shapes and filtered its noises. 

The cloudy autumn sky was unforgiving in its biting chill, yet Akaashi did not move an inch. He had been sitting on the cold concrete for hours now, leaning against an even colder building – Building 3, which he had chosen as his observation point and his room for the night. 

Two days had passed since he had been brought in by the two soldiers and abandoned to the loneliness of the Street. He’d gotten used to the inhumane tightness of the metallic collar, biting into the softness of his skin like ice fangs. He’d gotten used to the mocking looks, painful insults, occasional kicks. To the hunger and thirst, never quite quenched by the daily cereal bar and water bottle the guards would bring him.

He’d gotten used to living as an outcast in a cage, forced into stillness and silence in a corner of the free people’s life.

For most, he was a ghost, an eerie figure that you had to avoid while pretending not to see. A conscious choice, with a collective answer.

But there were exceptions, as always, and for a single insult, a thousand followed. Like the King of the Rats singing his first notes…

Akaashi felt the looming figure approaching him, and he only spared him a side glance. 

The stranger was a frat boy in its freshest form, of two years his senior at most. He saw with discreet satisfaction the twitch of his Adam’s apple upon meeting the azure blue of his eyes, and swallowed a petty grin and remark; men liked to insult a listening ear, but a single gaze and they lost their composure.

He’d been called _beautiful_ in all its forms, until he hated the word so much it became a weapon.

“I’m talking to you, you piece of shit; what are you doing against _my_ building?”

He had lowered his voice, and with it the potency of his venom. Good; Akaashi was immune to poison anyway.

“I don’t think it is _your_ building, actually,” Akaashi stated in a raw voice, his arms around his knees to keep himself warm. He had nothing but grey cotton to protect himself from autumn, a simple uniform that was designed to allow freedom of movement for Trained Ferals. No coat, no woolly under-layers, nothing but this grey suit and some leathery military shoes. 

He was simply so cold, so tired.

Akaashi saw the man’s face turning red with anger, and he braced himself for a blow. Oh he could dodge, or deviate the hit. He’d been trained for both attack and defence.

But there on the Street, with that collar and that mission, he was no soldier; a single wound on a perfect little citizen, and he would be in for a sanction. And against that potential punishment, the little scratches and bruises he’d gotten over the past few days were caresses on a cheek.

The other man grabbed the collar of his shirt, lifting him off the ground. The movement made every bone in Akaashi’s body ache, but he didn’t let it show. He kept his gaze still.

“Yes, it _is_ ,” the stranger seethed, his smoky breath assaulting Keiji’s nostrils in a painful reminder of Pang’s existence, “Know your fucking place, and go sleep near the trash dump.” 

Slide his hand between his arms. Crush his throat. Follow with a kick to the stomach. Run.

Akaashi’s blood boiled with the need to answer, to strike, pin him down. 

Two days of coldness, hunger, exhaustion. Two days of insults, blows, humiliations. Two days bathing in his own sweat, sleeping on the concrete ground, head reeling with the punch he had received in front of the other Ferals and the aftermath of the Alphas’ pheromones. 

Two days that were eating at his patience and sanity, cumulating to that moment, that instant.

But he did nothing. 

Nothing but stare, let the icy blade of his eyes speak a thousand words and strike a thousand attacks. He was already dead to him, a lifeless corpse he’d killed in a hundred scenarios.

His muscles were limp, his lips were sealed; he was as helpless as a lamb, a rag doll in the arms of a beast.

And yet, whether or not the other man felt the murderous intent stewing in his body, he let go. 

Akaashi fell back to the floor, bumping his head against the wall. He watched as his victim averted his eyes, watched the tension in his clenched fists, the straining of his jaw.

He wanted to punch him too, but not quite as much as Akaashi wanted to slit his throat; and so he’d won.

“Get the fuck out of my way now.”

Akaashi stood up calmly, ignoring the pain of endless nights in the cold. He walked past the other man, ignoring the horrified gazes of onlookers.

Oh, not at the aggressor’s expense, mind you: they had been told Akaashi would be there for a week, scanning them to detect Ferals. They had been told he was one of those sex-craving _monsters_.

His quality as a search dog didn’t make him any less of a wild beast; he disgusted them, and in a sense, he’d wished disgust had been enough to keep the bolder ones at bay.

The Rat Kings, those who would throw the first stone and lead their peers into following.

Just like that frat boy, who turned to him and kicked his lower back as soon as he walked away.

Akaashi lost his breath to the shock and pain, feeling a numbing sensation taking over his body. It made him dizzy, bringing him to the ground. 

Keiji coughed, growling lowly as he clawed the cold concrete till his nails turned bloody; he should have known better than to look away.

 _Fuckface_ , uh? It was because his face was so pretty and his eyes so murderous that he could keep the scavengers away. 

One look and they were done for. But as soon as he turned aside, the spell was lifted.

“Don’t come back,” the frat boy grinned, before walking inside the building.

As soon as their king disappeared, the rodents lost their smirks to discreet mutters. They went on with their daily lives as if nothing had happened, as if he wasn’t there in the middle of the Street, legs shaking so much it drew a frustrated groan from his lips.

He’d been trained, he’d learnt pain. And yet his body was giving up on him after two days and a blow. How pathetic…

Akaashi gritted his teeth, tried to gather his legs underneath his body. It was no use; he would have to wait for the sensations to come back before even thinking about escaping towards another resting spot. 

Night was falling already on his second night in the cold, and he found himself lucky enough not to be bothered by any other human. They avoided him without so much as an occasional kick, which he ignored. Eventually, he laid down, and waited for the Street to grow emptier and emptier.

He was just so cold, you see, simply so cold… 

His back didn’t hurt anymore, but he didn’t feel strong enough to stand.

He’d just sleep there, in the middle of the road. There were no cars on the Street, so the asphalt's scent wasn’t too awful.

He could sleep there, and maybe, hopefully, never wake up. 

*****

Kuroo had always had great stamina. He prided himself in running every morning, and on more than one occasion, he’d bragged about the incredible endurance he had built over the course of this past year in isolation.

However, nothing could have prepared him for the state of absolute exhaustion he had been in for the past two days. 

Everything ached, as if he’d run a marathon. From his legs to his neck, the soreness of his muscles was unparalleled, trapping him in bed for almost a day.

As he walked along the Street’s pavement under a darkening sky, Kuroo felt as if he might just give up on using his legs whatsoever. Faceplanting on the concrete seemed less painful than forcing his body to take any further steps.

Yet he clenched his jaw and tightened his fists in his pockets, forcing himself to battle against the cold and the pain on his way towards his destination. 

He remembered Kenma quickly emitting a theory, faithful to his insightful brain: the insane pheromone emissions he had produced during the Alpha meeting, both to protect himself from Oikawa’s wrath and later on to defend his friends from the Control Center’s Omega, had probably taken a huge toll on his body.

At first, Kuroo had scoffed at his supposition, but the truth had been stark clear upon observing both Bokuto and Kenma more closely: Bokuto had spent most of his day lazing around and cuddling Konoha to the death, and even Kenma had woken up later than usual, preferring much-needed rest over hours of gaming.

News from the other households had simply confirmed Kozume’s theory. Nishinoya Yuu, from Building 6, had visited them later during the day, expressing his concerns over Daichi and Kai’s visible exhaustion, which was apparently very similar to the state in which he had found both Tanaka and Hinata after a quick trip to Building 5 to check on Yamaguchi.

“It’s as if producing all those pheromones has completely drained you guys of energy...”

The young Alpha’s nervous words had made Kuroo’s heart twitch in the most painful of ways. He’d thought about it the whole evening and all night long.

Face darkened with stress and frustration, Kuroo walked forward, head low. The sentence twirled again and again in his mind, reminding him of the bitter truth: using their pheromones to defend themselves was energy-consuming. 

Had the FCC sent any other troops on that day, they would have found all the participants that had been cornered in that apartment during the control in similar abysmal states. Adding Akaashi’s accusation to the coincidence, it wouldn’t have been hard for them to realize there was a common thread.

It could have been their downfall.

Kuroo’s eyes burned in a dark flame as he pushed the door to Building 3.

Akaashi. Their new enemy, the blue-eyed monster that had mercilessly tried to throw their lives away with a smug grin.

And ironically, the epitome of Kuroo’s ideal: a Feral that had broken the chains of instinct, preferring obedience over natural affection for his kind. If one was to survive this entire shit-show, it was him, and it brought insane rage to Kuroo’s heart.

At least, if there was a hint of justice in this world, it had brought down its fist onto Akaashi in the form of that punch. Watching that cold-blooded bastard getting thrown to the ground and humiliated had been a great relief to Kuroo’s panicked heart.

Or he wished it had.

He wished he could say he’d felt nothing but the soothing caress of hope when that Omega had been beaten down. He wished he could say he felt nothing but hatred and resentment towards this beast.

But he couldn’t.

The second his agitated pheromones had turned sour with distress, the second the coldness of his blue eyes had flickered with pain, Kuroo’s heart had shattered.

And he was almost sure that not one of his friends felt otherwise. Almost sure he wasn’t the only one who felt his muscles clench, ready to pounce, bite, protect. 

_They’re beating up an Omega._

Kuroo shivered, the memory of the instinctive roller-coaster that had been this meeting making his head ache. Between Oikawa’s looming figure and furious snarls, the FCC’s interruption and Akaashi’s ordeal, everything “animalistic” within him had been brought to untold extremes.

If anything, maybe it was the reining in of their desire to protect the Omega that had caused the greatest strain on all of their muscles.

With a groan of denial, Kuroo decided to push this thought aside for the time being; he had things to do, and the afternoon was already nearing its end.

Tetsurou stood in front of Apartment 1’s door, feeling his heart soften with a bittersweet ache. The corridor still wore the soft perfume of Yaku’s flowery skin.

He knocked, waiting with certain anticipation for one of his friend’s former roommates to open the door; he hadn’t visited them since that day.

Soon enough, Yahaba appeared in the door frame, and with him, a whisk of Yaku’s scent that was strong enough to take a breath away from Kuroo. This entire apartment smelled like him; he didn’t know how his friends could survive in the lingering memory of his warm presence. 

Yahaba’s eyes widened in surprise, and Kuroo couldn’t help but smile.

“Kuroo, hey,” he greeted him, “I… We weren’t expecting you. It’s been-”

“Far too long, to be honest,” Tetsurou cut him, “I should have dropped by days ago.”

Yahaba swallowed an answer, lowering his gaze for a second. Kuroo used to visit them at least twice a week, back when Yaku and Shibayama were still home. He would bring back one of their plates after Yaku had lent it to them for a batch of cookies he had baked for Kuroo’s household. Or he would simply pass by to show off, tease Lev a bit, or annoy the small Omega for the sake of it.

Watching Yahaba’s pained expression, Tetsurou realized his absence and rarer visits had been as painful for them as it had been for him.

“Is Lev home?” he asked after a few seconds, to which Yahaba simply nodded with a feeble smile.

“Yeah, I’ll call him if you want. You can come in.”

Kuroo nodded, following him inside. He gazed around, recognizing the impersonal interior of the Street’s apartments. How painful should it be, to be simply human in those fake homes… With no scent nor lingering presence to recognize, walking into another apartment had to feel like having strangers in your own home.

As Kuroo stepped in, he found great relief in recognizing the household’s scent, and more especially in being able to tell their state in a quick inhale. No need for him to worry more than necessary, as he could take the situation in without even seeing its inhabitants: Lev was in his room, in an apparent distress that seemed low enough to indicate he was slowing healing. Iwaizumi wasn’t home, but his lingering perfume was peaceful. Kuroo could also note some whiffs of Oikawa’s minty presence; the Alpha had probably taken his lover on a much-needed walk, which reassured him as to the Omega’s healing process.

Even Yahaba’s discomfort felt light, surely simply due to Kuroo’s visit; they were still grieving, but they seemed to be improving. 

“Iwaizumi’s out?” Kuroo smiled softly as the Beta walked past him towards the corridor.

“Yes. Oikawa fetched him this morning. They’re probably in the park.”

“Good, the atmosphere’s refreshing there. Have you ever visited it? It’s quite nice!”

Yahaba averted his eyes, and Kuroo couldn’t help but ache for simpler times, when he would smile and joke around with the younger man.

He wished he could go back to those days and enjoy the soft scent of joy and peace that filled this apartment; he regretted the irrational fear of pheromones that used to plague his life and judgment. Now, Yahaba’s apple scent was tainted by the bitter undertones of sorrow.

“I haven’t,” he admitted, “But I’ll take a look if you say it’s so nice…”

Kuroo nodded, watching as Yahaba disappeared in the corridor. He took a sharp inhale, filling his nostrils in with remains of brighter days. Yaku and Shibayama’s scents were still strong. Like a painful reminder of their absence and an uplifting symbol of their existence at the same time.

Kuroo shivered; he had to bring them back.

Soon enough, he heard footsteps coming his way, revealing Lev’s lanky figure. The young Alpha’s eyes widened, and he offered his senior an awkward smile.

“Kuroo-san...”

“Hey, Lev. Been a while, hasn’t it?”

Lev gazed aside, before approaching to sit on a sofa. Kuroo imitated him.

“Didn’t you say it was too risky visiting us given what had happened to…”

His voice died down, and so did the curious glimmer in his emerald eyes. Kuroo felt a pang of guilt squeezing his heart; they had both lost someone dear to the Feral Control Center, and he hadn’t even been there to support his junior.

Kuroo shrugged softly, “It’s been a week… If you guys were still suspected, you’d have been arrested by now.”

He modulated his voice into a soothing tone that slid along his throat like a spoonful of honey; so sweet it was numbing, so much it glided down too slowly, forcing them into a brief silence.

There was no such thing as unbreakable truth when it came to hope, and they both knew it.

Kuroo saw Lev casting his green gaze to the ground, wringing his hands together. He was shrinking down, and with him, Tetsurou’s confidence.

He had abandoned them. He had nothing to say, no comforting words nor reassuring news to share. All he could offer was his presence, a fake familiarity that would not bring their dearest friends home.

Kuroo let the silence stretch for a few seconds, before shaking his head, “I’m sorry I didn’t come any sooner. I should have. You guys were alone, and I simply… I was a coward.”

Lev’s face twisted in slight confusion, and a pained smile grew on his lips. Kuroo missed the days when this grin was brighter.

“It was hard for everyone, Kuroo. You had your own friends to take care of, it’s okay…”

“No it’s not,” he cut him, before adding in a lower voice, “Yaku wouldn’t have wanted that…”

He saw Lev’s eyes widening, and in a corner of the room, Yahaba crossed his arms, head down. 

Kuroo shivered, wringing his hands together. And squeezing. Squeezing hard enough for his knuckles to grow white; as if by some miracle, he could replay the scene.

Jump forward, under the jeers and shocked gazes. Grab Yaku’s arm, and squeeze it – until his knuckles grew white.

Keep him close, no matter how dark of a bruise he would make, or how much of a commotion he would cause.

Sometimes at night, Morisuke’s face haunted him with the shadow of his rare smiles. They used to lit his entire face up, and some day, a while back, it was one of those grins that had stolen a heartbeat right out of Kuroo’s chest never to give it back.

Yaku was a family man, as mighty as he was feisty. A man like no other, unparalleled – or so Kuroo believed. He made up for his height with brains and energy, and for his short temper with a huge heart. 

Yaku was a great man, greater than giants and heroes alike.

And Kuroo loved him.

The unfairness of fate had taken this perfect being from his beloved family, and instead of caring for those his loved one had left behind, Kuroo had shut himself out, and had only protected those that he considered his own peers.

He’d rejected everything that was out of reach, everything that reminded him of that day on the Street; just a step too far, a touch of courage away.

Yaku was a great man, and Kuroo wasn’t.

Yaku had jumped in to protect his little brother, and Kuroo hadn’t been able to even speak up.

He had no right to be here, to seek comfort against his fierce friend’s mourning family and wash his guilt away with their grateful tears.

“Yaku often complained about you passing by.”

Kuroo’s heart skipped a beat, and he raised a confused amber gaze towards Yahaba. He was leaning against the wall, averting his eyes. 

“He said that you should be working on making Kunimi feel at home rather than hanging out with Lev and Shibayama, or wasting entire afternoons to cook meals for us.”

Tetsurou gulped, his heart twitching in painful beats. A sour taste took hold of his throat, and he couldn’t tell whether it was confusion or bitterness.

“Well… I thought you guys liked having me around. And I only cooked for you because he baked for us-”

“No, Yaku loved seeing you. He just didn’t like the idea of you running away from your responsibilities.”

Kuroo’s eyes widened. For a brief instant, he saw Morisuke’s furious scowls, his groans and whines whenever he would open the door.

“ _Eh, you again? Don’t you have a home?”_

“ _Lasagna… You made that two weeks ago. Next time, give it to your boys, or I’ll shut that door in your face.”_

“ _How’s Kenma? Kunimi? You better be keeping a close eye on those two… Same for your Bokuto, I found him in short sleeves by 40°F. Again.”_

Kuroo had always thought these were friendly teases, their usual dynamics. On some occasions, he’d even been bold enough to believe it courting games. 

Yet, now that he thought about it, he did spend a lot of time with Yaku’s family. He did visit them often, he did think that Kunimi would get used to them eventually, that Kenma didn’t need much attention anyway.

He did overlook the possibility that three of his family members could go into heats or rut anytime, simply because he refused to acknowledge the truth of their identities.

He fled.

Lev cleared his throat, “You know, Kuroo, we were actually grateful you stopped coming over, at first. You… It was just so hard, you see, and you reminded us of Yaku-san in a way. On top of that, Iwaizumi was in terrible shape for a few days, and having you coming over would have only overwhelmed him even more. Oikawa-san got terribly protective too, so if you had come over…”

Kuroo shook his head. A certain form of relief, as fragile as a sheet of ice, had washed over his chest. 

He had fled. He’d failed Yaku, on many occasions now.

He would never flee again.

“It’s okay, Lev. I’m glad you guys are feeling better. I really am.”

Lev tensed down, a genuine smile growing on his lips that sparked great cheer in Kuroo’s chest.

“Thank you, Kuroo-san. We’re also very happy you passed by. I had some news from Kenma, Konoha and Kunimi through Shouyou and Bokuto, but I really wanted to see you in person.” 

His face grew more serious, “Oikawa-san told us about the Alpha Meeting… We were really concerned about you. And that Omega, in the FCC’s army…

Kuroo’s face darkened.

“He’s been on the Street for two days now, it’s chilling…”

Kuroo’s peace melted like snow under the sun. An illusion, brushed away by a single mistake.

That Omega was the mistake.

Akaashi.

Every day, Kuroo saw him on the Street. Saw him approaching his peers, ready to sniff them out. He saw him observing, with eyes like those of a bird of prey. Ready to dive in.

The day that followed the Alpha Meeting, Kuroo saw him cornering Asahi Azumane, an Alpha with the confidence of a kindergarten kid, on his way back from the laundromat. Kuroo had just exited his building, ready for his morning run, when he had smelled the sultry pheromones of an Omega. 

He’d turned around, only to witness Asahi’s tensed figure and Akaashi’s soft grin. He’d seen him approaching like a hunter stalks its prey, and for a brief second, Kuroo’s stomach twisted into a ball.

He’d have intervened had Nishinoya not stepped in, slithering his way in between the two taller men with a bright smile for his lover, and a deadly stare at the Omega.

Nishinoya’s animosity was barely hidden, and Kuroo watched him drag Asahi away with a sigh of relief.

It seemed as if they were always a mistake away from disasters. And Akaashi was nothing but a puddle of oil on a kitchen floor.

“He’s not a threat as long as you don’t let him approach you,” Kuroo reassured him, “Act casual around him not to rouse suspicions, but don’t worry too much. His superiors don’t take him seriously anyway.”

His heart ached with a twitch that he ignored. 

He couldn’t afford to have any pity for this man. He was the enemy. 

He couldn’t afford to pay attention to the unconscious pheromones of distress the Omega emitted whenever a human yelled at him or pushed him around. Couldn’t afford to let his eyes linger on the unnatural curve of his neck, tightly compressed by the iron collar.

The reality was that Kuroo needed to focus on his devilish gaze, and forget about the way it had melted like snow under the soldiers’ punches. It was as simple as that.

Lev gulped and exchanged a gaze with Yahaba that Kuroo chose not to interpret. He had to show unwavering faith in his own vision of the situation. The two men were easy to influence, and if they had to listen to someone, it had to be him.

“Lev, I know what your instincts are telling you,” he continued, smiling calmly, “You’re looking at this Omega, and you can smell his pheromones. You haven’t seen him in action so I can’t blame you for being deceived by his pretty face. Trust me, he is nothing good. You’re better off not even looking his way.”

Lev gulped, a light blush spreading on his cheeks. He shook his head.

“I don’t… I don’t have any interest in looking his way. It’s just that sometimes… I walk past him when some humans are beating him up and...” 

His eyes dimmed down softly, “I see Shibayama-chan’s face.”

Kuroo stiffened. Both Lev and Yahaba were looking away now, trapped in their own vision of a demon hiding under an angelic mask. Of a beloved friend being torn to shreds right under their eyes. 

“It’s your pheromones talking, Lev,” Kuroo cut him, “You don’t see Shibayama’s face, you smell similar pheromones of pain. You’re an Alpha, I suppose that’s understandable. That man is nothing like your friend, I can assure you. He’d sell you off to the FCC for a pat on the head.”

Lev gulped, and Kuroo found great relief in seeing him nod slowly.

But Yahaba took him off balance.

“How do you know that?”

Kuroo blinked. 

He let out a nervous chuckled, looking towards the other man. The Beta’s face was closed, unreadable; everything about his posture indicated a certain stiffness.

“Know what?”

“That all he’s getting out of it is a pat on the head.”

Kuroo smiled softly, “Oh, I was being a little sarcastic that’s all-”

“What if it’s his only way out?”

For a second, Kuroo knew not what to answer. He lost his smile to a clenched jaw, and squeezed his hands together.

Oh, surely this was part of the equation. He was not dumb, nor was he a monster.

But Kuroo had made a choice: he had chosen his friends on the Street over the rest of the goddamn world, and that included Akaashi.

So he would ignore that variable. To hell with solving that equation and finding its right answer: he’d live in a world of deceptions and errors if it was _their_ only way out.

“We’re not beating him up, are we?” he breathed out calmly, “The humans are. We’re not doing anything, we’re not assaulting him, nor are we interfering with his precious mission. They can’t hurt him for not finding any hint, and he can’t find us if we don’t give him any. It’s a win-win situation.”

Yahaba shook his head, continuing in a strained voice “You don’t know if they don’t hurt him for failing-”

“So what? You wanna sacrifice yourself for that shitty hunting dog to bring a prey to his masters? If he wins, we all lose. Our only shot at survival is to trust that he has a higher chance of surviving his own failure than we do if he wins.”

Yahaba fell silent, and Lev didn’t add a word. In their eyes danced the flickering light of sorrow, and Kuroo’s own gaze darkened.

He had to put that fire out.

“He only wants to save his own ass. Good for him. But we’re not losing anyone else to them. Except if you guys want to see another one of our friends getting dragged across the Street like Yaku and Shibayama were.”

He saw the shiver that shook his two friends’ bodies, and with a last second of hesitation, they simply nodded. Lev gazed up with a weakened smile that hurt Kuroo more than it should have.

“You’re right, Kuroo. I wasn’t thinking straight. I spent my day with Hinata and Kageyama, I guess I’m exhausted…” 

Tetsurou unconsciously tensed down, nodding softly. 

They spoke for a few more minutes, chatting about their friends and daily adventures to the supermarket. The tone was lighter, and Kuroo even managed to steal of few laughs from them.

He was no fool, and he knew Lev had tried to change the subject. But the seed he had planted was going to grow, and he knew the two of them would come to realize he was right.

When surrounded by sharks, there is no other option but to go forward and abandon those who can’t swim. Especially those with an anchor chained to an iron collar.

When Kuroo left their building, night was already falling on the autumn frozen Street. A draft of wind trapped itself in the death row of concrete buildings, before fleeing on its other end; how lucky were birds to fly in and out of their cage of fear and grey homes without a second thought.

Tetsurou buried his hands in his coat, exhaling softly; the air was humid, it would rain soon.

Yahaba’s words had reminded him of his role. He needed to stand proud, embrace who he was and protect his peers. And above anything else, he needed to protect Kunimi, Bokuto, Kenma and Konoha.

This thought was to become his sole purpose, his only drive. It had to become as instinctive as baring his fangs in front of Oikawa; it had to become the core of who he was.

If Alphas were biologically meant to protect, then he would be the greatest Alpha there was.

He squeezed his fists into a tight ball, as if the pressure he put on his knuckles could make energy pulse through his veins. He was fired up, he was all flame, all raw determination.

They’d get through this, and he would do so by making Yaku proud.

He was going to light the world on fire and let them all escape through the smoke.

Unless ice-cold water put the sparks out.

A shiver chilled his body down, stiffening his muscles like another draft of wind.

The sky cried its first tear on the opal skin of a ghost.

By letting his instincts rage, his steps had brought him to the only other living soul on the Street.

In the dusky darkness of the dying sun, Akaashi’s eyes stood out like blue diamonds.

There he was, in the middle of the road, lazily hugging his knees, staring up to Kuroo with the boldness of unbothered giants.

He was a sight to witness, enough to shrink taller men into ants for him to crush.

He did not even need to stand for Kuroo to feel smaller than him.

Didn’t need to speak for Kuroo to come to him, and freeze barely a few feet away.

The Omega was in an abysmal state, from his messy hair to his rumpled clothes. His eyes were shining with the fever of exhaustion; he’d probably just woken up. Kuroo was unable to keep his gaze from running over his bruised jaw, down to the terrible tightness of his iron collar.

It was inhuman, and yet Akaashi wasn’t human. He couldn’t be.

In the paradigm Kuroo had chosen as his new hope, there was no place for him.

No matter how painful the sight was to his instincts, and how terrible the burning mark of his blue gaze was to his memory.

He simply had to burn brighter.

Tetsurou’s shoulders stiffened, and he broke his gaze.

Without a single word, he walked past him, chin low.

He fled home.

*****

Kuroo had been home for barely an hour when he decided to go to sleep. The rain was pouring outside, filling the silence of the kitchen with batting background noise.

They’d eaten early, Kunimi and Kenma disappearing into their rooms to play video games as soon as the dinner was over. Konoha had managed to squeeze himself into Kenma’s personal space, begging him for a turn on the PS4 until he had given in with a grumpy face.

They’d left the two other men alone in the kitchen, in which they had been sitting in silence for a little over ten minutes. 

Bokuto watched his best friend with great concern, removing his gloves after finishing to wash the last plate.

“To bed? This early? It’s not even nine.”

He’d spoken with a nervous smile that Kuroo did not return. He looked upset, or at least frustrated. Bokuto had rarely seen the lines of his face twisted in such an exhausted scowl. At least, not until a week ago, when their two friends had been taken away.

With a painful twitch in his heart, Bokuto thought that his friend had looked upset on too many occasions over such a short period of time.

“I’m a bit tired,” Kuroo answered, not even looking at him, “It was cold today, that’s all. I’ll feel better tomorrow.”

He offered Bokuto a soft smile, before waving, “G’night, Bo...”

“See ya!”

Bokuto forced himself to beam, unwilling to give his friend more reasons to feel terrible. He sighed softly, waiting for Kuroo to disappear before letting his mind run for answers.

Tetsurou had been off for a few days now. The Alpha Meeting had taken a toll on him, but he had not been the only one to suffer from its aftermath. Bokuto had also felt terribly tired, and even Kenma had been drained of all energy after the events.

However, unlike the other man, they both felt much better now. Over the past few days, Koutarou had been able to see many of his friends, and from what he could tell, they were all recovering really quickly. 

He smiled unconsciously upon remembering his encounter with Goshiki, who had immediately bragged about Kai and Daichi being in very good shape already. Or even his encounter with Ushijima, who looked at peace, immediately going out of his way to ask him about Kuroo and Kenma.

Bokuto had nothing but hope in his heart upon seeing how strong and resilient his friends were. 

So why couldn’t Kuroo feel the same?

Why couldn’t he see that they were safe, and that they felt good, at peace? 

A desert can be a cage to a traveller that doesn’t see its end; the Street was a cage that had for end the time limit of ten years. And in nine, they would be free.

The only thing they needed to worry about was Yaku and Shibayama.

Bokuto lost his smile to a gulp of concern.

He felt the wavering glimmer of his hope dancing itself to exhaustion.

There was the answer: Kuroo couldn’t see the end of the cage, because he kept looking back to the trap in which his two friends had fallen.

And he was right to look back. They couldn’t leave without them, could they?

It wasn’t a matter of watching their friends healing, it was a matter of being unable to tell if two of them were even alive.

Bokuto’s heart clenched up with stress, but he shook the emotion right out of his head.

Kuroo couldn’t help anyone if he didn’t heal himself properly. That, he knew.

Determination burned in his golden eyes once more: he needed to reassure Kuroo so that they could properly work on finding a way to save Yaku and Shibayama. The key to the end of their nightmare was to end their friends’ ordeal.

As Bokuto felt his confidence burning up again, his eyes were caught by a shape out of the window, and he lowered his gaze to take a better look at it.

His heart skipped a beat with surprise.

There, in the middle of the Street, wasn’t it the Omega from that day?

He was sitting on the road, facing away, and yet he was just below their window.

Why wasn’t he hiding from the rain? Lord, he looked absolutely drenched. This cotton outfit couldn’t be warm enough for an autumn storm.

Bokuto gulped, gazing aside. That Omega – Akaashi, had been on the Street for two days now. Bokuto could see him on his way to the store, but he hadn’t had the occasion to cross his path. Kuroo had told them not to talk to him anyway.

He took a glance out of the window again, chewing on his lower lip.

He had to be so cold, down there…

Koutarou took a glance at the corridor; Kuroo was probably in bed already.

He fiddled with his fingers, rubbing them against his palm in anxious restlessness. His eyes darted towards the umbrella stand. They had five of them – Kenma had bought one from a Super Mario Collector edition.

He took a glance at the lonely figure again, then at the stand, before taking a few steps forwards. He swallowed dryly; that old black one would do.

Koutarou rushed back towards the sink, climbing on the counter in a very precarious balance. He managed to open the window after two near-death experiences on the slippery surface, and was immediately hit by a powerful gush of rain and wind.

His heart ached all the more for the Omega. Yet, he hesitated for a second. Memories of the Alpha Meeting, of that deadly blue gaze that had threatened to lead them to their ruin, came back to his mind like a last warning. 

Kuroo would be really mad.

Bokuto finally took his head out, ignoring the freezing fangs of the elements on his skin. He had no chance of being heard from the third floor, especially with all that wind.

Sticking his tongue out to aim properly, he swung his arm out. If he could make the umbrella roll just close enough – without knocking the other man out, that should work out just fine.

He swung his arm back and forth once, twice… 

There.

Bokuto threw the umbrella in a near-perfect curve, and the wind brought it slightly closer to Akaashi’s head than he would have wanted.

He caught on the edge of the window not to fall, and pushed a few strands of wet hair from his face.

Down in the Street, the Omega visibly flinched, before reaching out for the umbrella. He observed it for an instant, making Bokuto’s chest twitch with anticipation.

At last, he gazed up, and Koutarou let out a soft gasp. From up there, he could only guess the details of his expression, but if there was one thing he could catch, it was the two touches of blue in the middle of a porcelain face, framed with jet black locks. Bokuto did not know how long the instant lasted during which neither of them moved, but he was pretty sure it was more than a lifetime.

Then, Akaashi faced forward again, squeezing the umbrella in his hands. 

Bokuto gulped, waiting anxiously for him to open it.

Had he lived on the first floor, he would have called out for him to come and take shelter inside. He’d have insisted, again and again. Maybe he’d have even jumped out of the window, and captured him to bring him in.

But they lived on the third floor, and Kuroo would definitely hear him if he tried to walk past the front door.

Yet, at the same time, wasn’t this an emergency?

He frowned, gaze losing its focus as he thought deeply.

Would Kuroo really be heartless enough to blame him for taking pity on a poor soul alone in the cold? No, he knew his best friend. He would never think so little of another human life-

It almost hit him. 

It flew right in, with the precision of a bird of prey. Its dark shape reminded him of a hawk.

Or maybe an owl.

Bokuto heard a loud thud against one of the cupboards, and he was almost sure Kuroo would hear it. It was okay, he’d find an excuse anyway.

He took a glance at the wet shape, the trail of droplets it had left behind, and for a few seconds, he watched its soft swinging on the floor coming to a standstill.

With a thudding heart, Bokuto tore his wide eyes away from the black umbrella, gazing down into the Street.

He stood there, unwavering, on legs that could probably barely make him stand. His arm was still outstretched from the perfect swing, and for a second, Bokuto could see the sharpness of his blue gaze. 

It was no perfect swing; Akaashi had simply missed his head.

Bokuto swallowed, his jaw dropping as if to call out for him through the howling wind.

Akaashi lowered his arm, but not his gaze; with his dark hair stuck to his pale skin, his drenched clothes embracing his body in dark shades of grey, the sharpness of his gaze was even starker, and the power of his will even mightier. 

A survivor.

Who was Bokuto to throw him a mere umbrella?

Who was he to even dare to look him in the eyes?

The urge to apologize, to speak to him, to simply hear his voice bubbled in his throat without a single sound being able to come out.

By the time he realized Akaashi didn’t even know his name, the storm-eyed Omega had sat down again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I SAID THE HIATUS WOULD END ON THE 22ND IM SORRY (but am I not always a day late anyway?)
> 
> How are y'all doing? Were your exams okay? Did you even have any? (I'm glad I'm done with mine lmao)
> 
> SO, what are the important things I needed to tell ya about? Well, I've been productive during my hiatus (some would say procrastinating, but I find that word so negative :'D), and guess what:  
> I have planned, in great details, the entire story of Id. Yes, at last, I did.  
> As you can now see, it is going to be 27 chapters long, and I plan on keeping a two weeks (+ one day) schedule. Hooray? (I was really happy about it lmao and at least that may mean I'll keep my motivation till the very end??? Who knows?? I'll need you guys though cause damn we're in for a looong ride)
> 
> SECOND PIECE OF INFO: I am going to "rewrite" the 7 first chapters to make them fit in the plan I've made better (and also improve them). I'll keep you posted, but it should be quick. I'll try to post the updated chapters before the next update. THE MAIN CHANGE is going to be that the beginning of this whole Alpha, Omega, Beta mess started 5 years ago instead of 2 (cause I've realized it made more sense if the first Ferals had appeared slightly sooner).
> 
> THIRD VERY IMPORTANT PIECE OF INFO: I wrote a one-shot (yay!) and I've spent MONTHS on it. It's called Strawberry Blond, and it's a MatsuHana little thing. Please check it out if you like my writing, cause it would make me insanely happy :'D (don't hesitate to leave a comment too zdedeezg i love those)
> 
> ALRIGHT! REAL STORY IS STARTING SOON (this is the last "chill" chapter, so be ready lmao)  
> POP QUIZ (I missed those):  
> \- What do you think about Kuroo's thought process? Is he making progress, or is he going backwards?  
> \- Did you like the Bokuaka crumbs zedjehgehj? My boy Akaashi is a SNIPER!  
> \- What was the potential percentage of Bokuto knocking Akaashi out with that fucking umbrella like istg these two are cut from the same wood of dumb bitch energy, except bokuto is a cute dumb bitch and akaashi is a dumb bad bitch  
> \- do you think Bokuto will avoid Akaashi now?  
> \- DID YOU ENJOY YOUR YAKU CRUMBS? CAUSE I DID. I MISS THIS MAN *sobs in writer*
> 
> ALRIGHT!  
> SEE YOU GUYS IN TWO WEEKS (and one day)  
> LOVE YA


	9. Protagonist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto tries to reach out to Akaashi, and Kuroo is faced with the consequences of his speedy evolution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: exhaustion, slight panic attack, mentions of pain

No matter how much of a cat person Akaashi was, he’d never thought about kicking a puppy. You don’t kick puppies. No one should kick puppies. Those who did were monsters, and if Akaashi didn’t exactly have any kind of self-respect towards his own motives and drives, he’d rather not call himself a monster.

The thought of kicking a puppy had hilariously never crossed his mind, yet the desire to ruin other human beings’ lives had become a daily target, borderline obsessive. However, he didn’t have the luxury not to hunt down his peers, whereas monsters had all the freedom in the world not to kick cute little balls of fluff.

And so Akaashi was not a monster, and would not be one for as long as he didn’t kick a puppy.

Now, the crucial difference between deliberate acts of monstrosity and the inescapable duty of a not-so-free soldier was a thin line on which Akaashi had been dancing for the past five days.

Indeed, a literal puppy had taken a liking to him, five days ago, on a stormy night that he would rather have forgotten.

That puppy had introduced himself as Bokuto Koutarou, and had not left him a day of peace and quiet since.

“Good morning, Akashi!”

And he hadn’t been able to get his name right either. Having to withstand his family heirloom getting butchered with such cheerfulness on a daily basis should honestly be considered a valid reason for murder. Akaashi would suggest it to his lawyer the day he actually went through with one of the numerous plans he had thought about to put an end to Bokuto Koutarou’s joyful verbal massacre. That was, assuming a Trained Feral assassinating a rightful citizen would be lucky enough to get a lawyer, or even a trial. Public execution probably had a nicer ring to Doctor Rocester’s ears.

“How was your night?”

At last, Akaashi gazed up. He’d been sitting on the asphalt for the entire night, and his body was aching with all kinds of ailments. A week in the cold autumn weather, with barely enough clothing layers to survive, a week sleeping through humid nights, and suffering insults and occasional hits.

And there came the puppy, once again appearing with a radiant beam and a freshly rested babyface.

Standing between him and the sunbeams, whose warmth he very much _required_. Now if that wasn’t one hell of an argument to sway the judges! At this point, it would be a legitimate defence!

Akaashi glared at him with enough of a threatening glance to make him stay back. Even after five days, Bokuto at least still had the decency to look scared. He watched as the Alpha stayed there, a foot away, basking in the morning sun he was so unlawfully taking away from him.

And, as he had done do for the last five days, Akaashi remained silent. He leaned back against the wall of whatever building he happened to be resting against, loosely held his knees to his chest, and threw his head back to display a certain amount of disrespect. The movement made the bruising collar tear deeper into his skin; he’d probably have some scars. But nothing compared to the ass-whooping he would give Pang during their future training session.

How had his night been?

Same as the precedent, which was itself similar to the one just before. Cold, humid, lonely. He was lucky he hadn’t caught the cold of a lifetime yet.

Nothing much to say, and so he did not, in fact, speak it. He let his metallic eyes meet Bokuto’s in defiant silence, refusing himself the right to even correct the pronunciation of his name.

If his behaviour upset Bokuto in any way, he never let it show. 

With another grin, the young Alpha shoved his hands in his pocket, and took out some sort of crumpled plastic bag.

“I gotta fetch some rice. Do you want to come with me? You aren’t moving a lot lately… The store’s at the end of the Street, it’s not far!”

Dumb. That man was really dumb. Yet another reason to kill him without too much remorse.

Akaashi didn’t move, and simply gazed up to the greyish blue sky. He’d stopped caring for the rest of the world a few days ago; days passed, but routines were the same, even for the perfect citizens Rocester seemed to love so much. People had the same friends, same habits, same small talk subjects. Enough to drive Akaashi insane. 

The gang of absolute idiots from Building 12 would walk past him every day with the same tasteless insults, and the two girls from Building 6 and 9 would meet up near the laundromat at 9am sharp, except when the shortest one forgot to put her alarm on. The furious rooster-head that had run into him before nightfall five days ago also left for his morning jog around that time.

Akaashi wondered how he was doing; the poor idiot been attracted by his Omega scent, and had almost tripped on his aching body in the dimming light of the day. Had he even so close as touched him, Akaashi would have torn his guts apart; pain and exhaustion often did an amazing job at wearing his patience down to a minimum.

Now that he thought about it, the situation would have been perfect to arrest him, claiming that the Alpha had assaulted him. The look of absolute confusion on the other man’s face had been enough for Akaashi to tell that overwhelming him with pheromones would have caught him off guard. The thought had haunted him for days now; that was an appalling missed occasion, which had resulted in his extended stay on the cold and unwelcoming Street.

Akaashi could catch whiffs of the rooster-headed Alpha’s scent on Bokuto's clothes. They were probably from the same Building, if not the same apartment. For a second, he thought that he could simply ask him for news on the other man's state.

But he knew his duty, and he knew these two's place: they were Ferals, and the only difference between him and them was that he was a Trained one. He was a soldier on eternal probation, and talking to this man, Feral or not, could get him into insane troubles.

Akaashi was on the Street to detect, find evidence, and howl. If his superiors discovered he still spoke the same language as the wild dogs, he would be done for. And if the perfect citizens heard him speaking in their human tongue, they’d chastise him for playing mind games.

No matter what language he spoke, he'd get punished; so it was better to simply shut up.

After all, how inconvenient would it be for random citizens to realize that the monsters were not as different from them as they thought... 

“You don’t have to come! But moving around a little will warm you up, you know!”

Akaashi found himself once again drawn out of his own thoughts by Bokuto’s voice. A shiver ran up his spine, like a cold slap across the face. When exactly did he start thinking more than he spoke? Having entire introspective monologues instead of conversations? When did he start answering questions in silence?

A while back, surely. Some four years ago. He’d learnt to speak only when addressed.

And yet here he was: being addressed, and not answering. Over the course of the past seven days, he’d learnt not to speak at all.

Bokuto offered him a weak smile, and Akaashi felt his throat dry up. Was it pity that shone in his golden eyes? Had he noticed his sudden confusion?

If he did, the Alpha didn’t comment on it.

“Say Kashi…”

He could just murder him.

“I know you won’t talk to me, but I was really curious: that day, when it rained, did you miss my head on purpose?”

Akaashi gazed at him, and the other man seemed to shrink a little. It was ridiculous: he was so much stronger and taller than Akaashi was. His status as a citizen also gave him the power to play with his life like it was a plastic ball.

If anything, Akaaashi decided Bokuto was the pitiful one. Waiting for Rooster-Head to leave for his jog before sneaking out to chat for ten minutes. Talking to a less-than-human, without even being respected enough to get an answer. Telling the silent interlocutor about his day, about his friends - Konoha, Kenma, Kunimi…

Kuroo.

Akaashi’s eyes widened ever so slightly, and Bokuto caught his reaction with a hopeful smile.

He knew Rooster-Head’s name. He knew about Bokuto’s other friends. He knew that Bokuto loved cuddles and wished he could cuddle them more. He knew that Kuroo and Bokuto used to be best friends through high school, and even played volleyball together. He knew so much about this pitiful man he strived not to listen to and who didn’t even know his goddamn name, so much that his own attempts at being detached seemed equally as ridiculous.

In trying to ignore him, Akaashi had remembered his every word. And in trying to make him speak, Bokuto had ended up monologing. They had both failed and succeeded in their tasks at the same time.

How ironic was it that in the end, they _were_ absolutely the same, prisoners of the other’s whims, trying to impose their will in a meaningless conversation whose authorized topics were regulated by an invisible and absent higher instance that declared them both identical monsters and yet kept them apart as hunter and prey?

“Akaashi.”

He spoke in a raw voice that hadn’t known human language in days, and he saw with weak amusement how it stole a breath from the puppy-eyed man.

“It’s pronounced Akaashi.”

Akaashi’s lips curled into a smug grin, “And I never miss my shots.”

Bokuto’s eyes widened in gleeful surprise. Now he’d never thought Akaashi would actually answer. He’d gotten used to simply telling him about his days and asking him questions that would never be answered. He’d almost lose all sorts of wit from the surprise only… 

Koutarou watched the other man, waiting for him to add more, before pushing a weak giggle out of his lips.

“Well, then it _was_ a perfect swing...” 

“Did you doubt that it was?”

Another answer, and Bokuto almost forgot how to breathe. Shit, wasn’t this mechanism supposed to be automatic?

His stomach churned with strange butterflies, and his face heated up so fast he’d have believed it would explode. He scanned Akaashi’s expression for any explanation as to why the other had suddenly decided to answer, but he couldn’t find any: Akaashi simply sat there on the floor, head tilted up as he offered him a calm smile.

Bokuto found himself stuttering in front of these beautiful eyes of his and their playful glimmer. Akaashi felt like a friend by now; he’d told him so much about his family - without, of course, giving away their Feral identity.

“I wasn’t sure,” he admitted, “I couldn’t see well through the rain…”

Akaashi’s scent had softened, and Bokuto inhaled its fresh caress, so alike the crispy air of a winter night. The Omega had been trying to overwhelm him with his pheromones for the past few days, but he’d finally given up.

Koutarou couldn’t help but smile, seeing in this intimate change a tiny little spark of progress.

“I’m glad you answered,” he said softly, lowering his bubbly gaze to the ground, “Now we can have a real conversation! There is so much I’ve been wanting to ask you in return for all the information I’ve bothered you with…”

He watched as Akaashi cocked an eyebrow, still grinning. Bokuto’s chest ached with a hint of pain upon seeing the bruises that the collar had left on his skin. 

“Does it hurt?” he immediately asked, unable to keep his concern to himself. He couldn’t tell if his empathy was due to his instincts or to the strange affection he had developed for the Omega, but he simply couldn’t help himself: had it been Kenma or Kunimi, he’d have already dragged him home to care for his wounds and torn that metallic object right off his body.

Akaashi’s eyes followed his gaze down to the collar, and Bokuto waited for the answer with burning anticipation. 

“Eh… I guess I’m used to it,” Akaashi shrugged.

“Why did they tighten it so much? You can’t remove it yourself anyway, can you?”

The Omega gazed up, and Bokuto stiffened upon meeting his icy blue eyes once again. He’d spoken too fast, and he had probably annoyed him.

Yet to his surprise, another vaguely complacent smile played on his lips; there was something about that smile that made Bokuto feel infinitely smaller than he was.

“Ever heard of what happened to the curious cat?”

Koutarou blinked, before thinking briefly, “Curiosity killed it, didn’t it?”

Akaashi chuckled; Bokuto couldn’t tell if it was the raw, abused voice or the unexpected sign of approval, but his heart skipped a beat. Kuroo would be so mad if he saw the state he was in right now. 

Well, he’d be mad for more than one reason. Bokuto hadn’t planned his visits to Akaashi according to his jogging schedule for nothing… 

“It did,” Akaashi hummed, “And yet here you are, chatting with a big bad Feral. People have been looking at us for the past few days, you know… The way you’re all chatty and happy-go-lucky despite talking to someone like me.”

His eyes narrowed, and his grin widened, “One might call you a curious tomcat. Or one might even assume you’re _naturally_ drawn to an Omega like me.”

His silky voice was laced with double-meanings, and Bokuto felt a shiver ran down his back. 

He knew it. He was painfully aware that his actions were dangerous, both to his packmates and to himself. He could feel the disgusted, horrified, or suspicious glares that were piercing right through them at this very moment, colder than the autumnal breeze itself.

But Akaashi simply looked so lonely and cold, and Bokuto had had his share of suffering Omegas.

He emboldened himself with a grin, “There hasn’t ever been an actual Feral like you on display on the Street, and no one but me has approached you so far. Without any case of Feral willingly approaching another Feral, I’m nothing but the first idiot who dared to treat you decently.”

Akaashi frowned, “Isn’t that suspicious in itself?”

Bokuto blinked, before scratching his chin as he did to show he was thinking. Of course, it was suspicious to an extent, but he had come up with an infallible argument to support his little visits to Akaashi and reassure Konoha and Kenma at the same time.

“Well, why would a Feral approach someone that is sent out to corner those of his kind? It’s risky, especially cause they can smell one another…”

Proof was, Akaashi had tried to drown him in pheromones, and Bokuto had seriously considered putting an end to his visits. But Akaashi seemed so lonely, and the scent was simply so sweet, that he couldn’t resist coming back. He’d simply been lucky enough to keep his behaviour in check; strong willpower had also contributed to his safety… 

“Fair point,” Akaashi chuckled, “But a Feral could also simply be weak to their instincts. Or, one might consider your conception and deem it a good strategy for a Feral to avoid suspicions.”

Bokuto blinked.

Oh, he hadn’t thought of that.

Was it why people kept looking at them sideways? Did they believe he was a Feral trying to prove he was a normal human being by hanging out with a pheromone-dripping Omega?

But his plan also worked, right? He could argue his self-control was proof enough of his humanity, couldn't he?

Had he been that reckless all along?

A headache took hold of his temples, and he raised his hand to his skull in a dramatic whine.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaah… You’re hurting my brain, Kaashi!”

He watched with a soft pout as Akaashi’s smile softened. Such a sight for sore eyes… Keiji looked much sweeter now than when he had been looking at Bokuto with stormy eyes the other night.

Heat lightly flushed Bokuto’s face, and he was insanely grateful the other had turned aside with a chuckle.

“You eagerly wait for me to speak to you for five days, and the moment I do, you complain? What a funny way of showing appreciation…”

Akaashi had a point, and Bokuto covered his face with his hands in embarrassment. 

For a first real conversation, it was going downhill pretty fast. 

But to be honest, it had been pretty presumptuous of him to think he could have the upper hand in a discussion with the pretty-faced Omega… 

“No, that’s not it…” he tried to explain himself with nervous gestures, “It’s just… I didn’t expect you to… well…”

“Be smart?”

Bokuto’s eyes widened. 

“No! Of course not! You’re much smarter than me, Akaashi! Even an idiot would see that!”

Akaashi frowned, and Bokuto cursed himself for such a stupid and paradoxical statement. It simply seemed so absurd to him: Feral or not, Akaashi’s very features and poise called for respect and indicated just how incredible and insightful he was. Bokuto could literally feel it in his guts, and anyone who couldn’t simply had to be incredibly idiotic!

He shook his head to brush the embarrassment away.

“I simply thought you would tell me about your friends and your favourite sports, just like I did! Not that you would mock my analyses and talk strategy…”

Bokuto reached behind his nape to scratch it for a few seconds, before dropping his hand to his side. Kuroo had often told him how easy-to-read he could be when he was embarrassed. 

With a soft pout, he risked a glance towards Akaashi, appreciating a calm smile on his lips. The other man was gazing up to the cold sky; he looked peaceful. Nothing like the expressionless rag-doll he’d spoken to for the past five days… 

“I don’t have friends,” Akaashi finally said, “Nor do I particularly care for sports. I’m not exactly allowed to do anything at the Control Center-”

He cut the end of his sentence with widening eyes, but he’d caught his loose tongue too late. Bokuto immediately took a step forward, his blood boiling with indignation.

Akaashi had trusted him with his pain, unconsciously or not, and he would not let him suffer alone any longer!

“Well, that’s just terrible, Akaashi!” he exclaimed, raising his arms under Akaashi’s confused gaze and the crowd’s disapproving glares, “I knew you looked like you could need a friend, so I’m glad I came to you!”

The world was a cold place, and Bokuto had long given up on being a main character. He knew he would live a life on the edge of a cliff, and that a single mistake could make him fall to his end.

But standing on that lifeless Street, ignoring the looks and whispers of heartless humans, Bokuto would not move an inch, nor would he change who he was: a kind, compassionate man.

The bottom of the abyss stood before him, in Akaashi’s weakened shape and proud eyes. He was a free man in a cage without fences, and Akaashi was a prisoner with the right to imprison. 

Maybe – hopefully, their association could allow them to reach the freedom they both lacked.

The thought thudded in Bokuto’s heart to the rhythm of a battle song, and buzzed in his stomach with the flutter of butterflies. A friend and an ally could spring from this cat and mice game; he believed in this prospect with all his heart.

“Aren’t humans supposed to hate and fear us monsters?”

Bokuto gazed up, losing the thread of his fantasy to the reality of Akaashi’s sudden words. The Omega’s eyes had darkened, and he averted his gaze with a bitter smile. 

Koutarou’s heart ached softly before this strong friend’s suffering. He’d never had to fake a single smile in his life, and in Akaashi’s words and exhaustion, he could tell the Omega hadn’t offered a genuine grin in far too long. 

Bokuto gulped and fiddled with the aim of his sweatshirt. His mind briefly wandered to Akaashi’s state, but he remembered the other man had refused any kind of coat or jacket he had offered. He simply was unreachable… 

Monsters.

Was he talking about Trained Ferals? Were there more than just Akaashi?

Or was he talking about the two of them? A tamed beast and a free monster in hiding. 

Bokuto couldn’t tell, and his heart sunk to his feet with a suffocating coldness. His brows twitched as untold sadness took over the glimmer of his eyes.

They were the same, beyond all their differences. Two beasts in the middle of a Street, having to lie and pretend. 

But, as opposed to Bokuto, Akaashi was the one receiving the insults and kicks. He was that one dog in a crowd of dog-fearing people, and somehow, someone had said that all dogs should be beaten to death – and somehow, the people had agreed.

Akaashi couldn’t see it, but Bokuto’s eyes burned with untold fury. He clenched his fists, and his throat dried up under the strength of his emotion.

The Omega only gazed up with soft confusion when the brief whiff of furious pheromones assaulted his nostrils. 

His eyes widened slowly.

“Maybe we are, but one may hate dogs without kicking puppies.”

Ah, puppies again.

So he was not a monster then?

Good.

Bokuto’s voice had lowered with raw anger, barely contained. For five days, Akaashi had attempted to trigger those pheromones, make him lose his mind. And yet, it was the simple thought of him getting hurt that had enraged the Alpha.

The thought was almost ironic, and Akaashi didn’t find the strength to try and make him fully snap. His eyes twinkled with a brief spark of determination that died down when his strained muscles kept him from moving. The ocean blue of his eyes turned metallic again, and he tensed down; it was useless. Today was his last day on the Street. He’d failed his mission, and he was too weak to even give it a last shot.

One bullet left in his weapon, and he wouldn’t waste it on wounding his only company. His eyes ran over Bokuto’s genuine sorrow and shaking frame.

He simply shone so bright, and Akaashi craved light so much. Bokuto was a star, and he wouldn’t be able to take him down with a single bullet anyway.

So he let it go, and offered him an amused smile.

“Do I look like a puppy to you?”

Bokuto’s eyes widened, their embarrassed confusion lighting a warm fire in Akaashi’s chest. If he had made a mistake in aborting his mission, at least he found great relief in the temporary joy of Koutarou’s presence.

“That’s… no!” the other gasped, agitating his arms in panic. An adorable blush painted his cheeks, and Akaashi found himself enjoying its sight greatly, “That’s not what I… I just…”

Bokuto lowered his gaze, now crimson-faced. His lips twitched into a pout as he tortured his shirt in even more embarrassed fiddling, “You’re scarier than a puppy.”

The confession broadened the smile on Akaashi’s lips. His entire body was hurting, and nothing interested him more than a good night of sleep.

But at least – at least his reputation as a threatening beast was intact.

He was about to retort playfully, when another voice rose from behind the two of them.

“Bokuto!”

The Alpha blinked and turned around, scanning the people in the Street. That voice, he knew it… 

His eyes widened in enthusiasm.

“Nishinoya!”

Bokuto waved at the young man, who stood a few feet away. Noya was flocked with his lover, Asahi, as well as Goshiki and Shirabu. The four of them were watching them with worried gazes in which danced a hint of fear. 

Koutarou’s heart twitched as they gestured for him to join them; he still had not convinced Akaashi to follow him, but could his state even allow him to go to the store with them?

“You should go.”

Bokuto turned around, his lips burning with a thousand arguments. Akaashi’s calm gaze silenced him; he’d lost his smile to a cold expression, but the Alpha knew better than to trust his friend’s frozen facade. 

“But are you sure you don’t want to com-”

“I’m sure. Talking to me is a thing, but if you start walking me around, people simply won’t understand.”

He knew Akaashi was right, painfully so. Bokuto yearned for another life, in which he could drag him wherever he wanted, talk to him freely, learn more about him.

That life would have to wait… 

He simply nodded and offered Akaashi a weak smile, before taking a few steps away from him.

Akaashi shut his eyes, trying to quiet the buzzing headache that was developing inside his skull. He’d never thought he would be waiting for the FCC forces to pick him up so eagerly… 

Yet just as the Omega thought he would be gone for sure, Bokuto stopped in his track and turned to face him.

“One last thing, Akaashi.”

He opened his eyes, the blurry figure of the Alpha slowly revealing the playful eyes and grin he’d learnt to relish in.

“That cat you were talking about… I seem to remember that satisfaction brought it back, right?”

And with those last words and a clumsy wink, Bokuto hurried away, immediately surrounded by friends who accused him of being “out of his goddamn mind”.

Akaashi realized he should have told him it was his last day on the Street.

*****

For some reason Kuroo was yet to understand, Bokuto had decided lazing around in his bed was more important than their morning runs “between bros”. Five days had passed since that aberrant decision, and his frustration had slowly been replaced by his renewed interest in his own character development.

If Bokuto had decided to become a secondary character, Kuroo had set sail towards the great island of protagonists.

Ever since his talk with Lev and Yahaba, he stuck to his daily routines, but had added to his schedule a fair dose of communication. The Alpha had never considered himself overly social, especially since the Street System was implemented, but he had now freed two hours of his time to pay daily visits to his peers.

So far, the experience had been incredibly pleasant, and he was all the more persuaded that his new lifestyle and decision-making would be fruitful.

The sun was lazing around behind a soft layer of clouds, much to Bokuto’s image, but at least it wasn’t blinding him on his way to the park. His throat burned with the delicious coldness of autumn mornings, and each breath he huffed out escaped in little volutes of mist. 

With that steady rhythm, he would reach the park in less than ten minutes.

Kuroo had decided that the green space was more agreeable to visit than the cafe when he was on his own. Its calmness allowed him to think without being overwhelmed by noises and scents, and overall, he found himself more refreshed after paying the bench a brief visit.

His new goal was clearer when he was on his own, with no intrusive voice but his own thoughts. Bokuto was too kind a man to understand his new drive, and these morning runs allowed him to think and prepare his speeches.

Whenever he visited or crossed paths with another Feral, he would simply smile, and make sure they understood that they had to stay away from Akaashi. Safe and away from the threat, no more no less.

Kuroo prided himself in his apparent success. He could see how the other Ferals looked at him whenever he talked to them, their eyes sparkling and their minds changing: to them, he was a great Alpha, and this was everything he strived to become. 

A leader. The one who protects, and who keeps his friends away from threats.

Kuroo's breath was running short, and he could already spot three figures standing next to his bench. Just as he was about to change his course to another resting place, he realized that he knew the three individuals that had stolen his spot: three Betas from Ushijima’s pack, Tendou, Sugawara and Semi.

With renewed confidence, Kuroo slowed down his pace to walk towards the bench. His breath was still ragged and he was dripping with sweat, but he trusted the Betas with their comfort around pheromones – yet another piece of information he had managed to learn through embracing his nature and that of his friends.

As he approached, he noticed their relative tension. Kuroo knew Tendou and Sugawara fairly well, but he had never talked to Semi. He found great satisfaction in being offered such a perfect occasion to address the issue of Akaashi with these three insightful men.

However, Tetsurou watched as the grey-haired ones exchanged a tensed gaze, before Sugawara crossed his arms. As for Tendou, he sat on the bench and waved casually; at least someone was making an effort to appear friendly.

Kuroo reached them in no time, and offered them an easy smile in between two huffs, “Hi guys, what owes me the pleasure?”

Tendou opened his mouth to speak, but Sugawara was faster, “Yamaguchi told us you visited him.”

Kuroo swallowed a heavy lump, trying to catch his breath. Was that animosity he could feel in Suga’s voice? 

The Beta’s lips were pursed, and his arms still crossed. Tetsurou straightened up with what he hoped was a cheerful grin.

“Hey, what happened to "Hello, how are you"?” he joked, only to see the Beta appearing as unamused as could be. He simply continued, “I did see him, and I was able to see Kageyama, Tsukishima and Hinata too. Tanaka was absent though, he was visiting-”

“He said you asked him questions about his heats.”

Sugawara cut him, and Kuroo’s smile faltered. His lungs were functioning properly again, allowing him to see the bigger picture. 

They _were_ pissed, or at least seemed to be so.

He cast his brown eyes in his, trying to catch an explanation behind his stiff stance.

“I did, why… He’s the only one who’s had a mating cycle so far," he argued calmly, "Haven’t we said we should try to share information? His friends and him have allowed me to catch up on you guys...”

“We did, but we noticed you are getting ahead of yourself, Kuroo.”

Tetsurou blinked in disbelief. What had gotten to them?

His eyes fluttered around in discomfort upon the unexpected turn of the conversation.

“Ahead… of myself?”

The three Betas exchanged a glance, and Tendou sighed, hugging his knees. He offered him a curious smile that Kuroo could not quite decipher; it was as if he was analysing his very reactions. As if he feared he would snap. 

Kuroo immediately tensed up.

“We got news from Nishinoya, Yamaguchi and Lev," Tendou said, "You’ve talked to their packs, and apparently encouraged them to stay away from the Trained Omega.”

Kuroo watched them curiously for a few seconds. He let his eyes run from Tendou’s careful smile, to Sugawara’s tensed features and Semi’s avoidant eyes.

What did they see in his actions that he had failed to take into account?

“I did. What's the matter?” he forced himself to smile, “That man has been sent to trick us and discover us, hasn’t he? It’s only natural I remind those who show doubts that he is not a friend…”

He watched in utter disbelief as Sugawara rolled his eyes and shared another glance with his packmates.

Kuroo’s blood boiled, and he took a step forward.

“Wait, what’s going on?” he growled, “Is there anything wrong in stating that the Omega in an enemy?”

“It’s not that it’s wrong, Kuroo,” Sugawara sighed, “It’s that this perspective is simply too negative for the cohesion of our "group"…”

“Negative? So what, he is _not_ a threat?”

“He is,” Semi spoke up, shaking his head, “But chances are he is not acting on his own free will.”

Kuroo’s very instincts were screaming in awful whistles in his mind, like a storm and its howling winds. His brown eyes burned with incomprehension as he gave Semi a dry smile.

“Oh, so I should just let them see the world in grey, and let them dwell in guilt? Humans do not hesitate to see everything in black and white, and to tear us down according to those beliefs!”

He watched as Tendou smiled weakly, gazing up to Sugawara. What? What was with that face?

Why did they look at him like he was a child throwing a well-expected tantrum?

“I am taking _initiatives_ ,” he continued as if to convince them he was right, “Someone has to, if we are to survive and to get Shibayama and Yaku out. Someone has to state things as they are for fuck's sake-”

“Kuroo, you need to lower your voice, and calm down. Immediately.”

Sugawara’s voice was cold, but not as cold as the look he gave him. Kuroo saw himself, two weeks ago, being soothed by that same man as he was losing himself to the sight of his loved ones being taken away and beaten up.

Today, Koushi seemed just out of reach, delusional.

Testsurou took a shaky breath, and did his best to control both the tremors in his muscles and the pheromones dripping off him. He must have been fairly successful, for he saw Semi tensing down.

Was he scared of him? The thought made Kuroo forget his anger for a split second.

“We do not want you spreading any more hate. On the contrary, if we are to be different from the humans, we have to take in the greyness of the world,” Sugawara simply sighed, shaking his head, “And that works both for non-Ferals, and for Akaashi.”

The name sent a shiver down Kuroo’s spine, and he lowered his gaze in frustration. 

He'd convinced many of his peers not to give a name to the Omega. Convinced so many of them he had believed his thoughts to be undeniably right.

And they were. They had to be. He had changed so much, had learned to embrace himself and his peers.

He couldn't be anything but right, could he?

Slowly, Sugawara turned to Semi, and the Beta nodded.

“If anything," Semi continued, "We need to be prepared for the eventuality in which we have to save him alongside Yaku and Shibayama.”

Kuroo’s blood ran cold, freezing in his veins as suddenly as lava meeting the sea. His eyes widened, and he stared at the three of them with incredulous horror. Their gazes were calm, too calm for the bomb they had just thrown at his feet.

Five days. He had spent five days building himself as a new man, as a leader, only to have his ideas being undermined and crushed to pieces by three dreaming fools.

“You want him to take part in the escape plan.”

He barely recognized his own voice, drained off all energy and reduced to a whisper by the shock.

“Yes,” Semi answered without missing a beat, before narrowing his eyes, “That’s why we came to find you. Your newfound enthusiasm is encouraging, but we can’t have a smart man like you fall prey to the easy trap of hating Trained Ferals. We are in too small numbers to afford abandoning our own people."

“You want him to take part in an escape plan that doesn’t even exist yet.”

Semi gulped, and gave Sugawara a brief side-glance. But before Joushi could even speak, Tendou stretched and stood up under their expectant gaze; the bubble-gum scented Beta approached Kuroo, smiling calmly. He knew him, at least a bit better than the other two.

Yet, Kuroo didn’t have the strength to look amused or friendly. His muscles were tense, his jaw stiff. Even his eyes threw defiant daggers that he wasn’t even aware of.

Satori didn’t look much impressed. He offered him a calm smile, “That’s why I brought them here, Kuroo. To discuss the plan. We need to get on the move, and we need you to help us with the decision-making. You are smart, you care for details, and more importantly, you've shown all of us how quick you are to adapt to new mindsets. We need you on this, Kuroo.”

Tetsurou could hardly believe his ears. They’d come here with all their delusions, come here to tell him off like you patronize a naive kid doing something just _slightly_ wrong with a condescending smile.

He’d kept Akaashi out of the equation. He’d kept everyone else but his friends out of his plans.

That was only for the greater good that could exist: those he loved.

His eyes narrowed, and he took a step back, “You can’t have me in the decision-making if you don’t respect _my_ decisions.”

“That’s not how democracy works,” Sugawara sighed. 

Kuroo tensed. Oh, he’d believed this man was on his side for so long… 

“Democracy?” he laughed, “I’m as democratic as can be! But I’m also realistic, and you guys are not.”

Semi shook his head, soft eyes looking at him with infinite distress. 

“Kuroo, please listen to us… We can’t keep pushing Akaashi away like this. You’ve seen him, on the Street… He is a prisoner too.”

Kuroo shivered, “A prisoner who could have us all discovered.”

His voice was laced with a fury he could not contain. Taking another step back, he turned around. 

“I’ve heard enough. I’m not discussing with you guys for as long as you keep spouting that nonsense. We are not befriending that Omega, nor are we going to even try to include him in our plans.”

An Alpha. A leader.

That was he had to be, and this ridiculous joke was the proof of it. He was the only one who could guide them to safety.

His blood was boiling, coursing through his veins with the intensity of a torrent.

Someone had to be sensible and rational, and if he had to stand alone, he would. As long as his friends – no, as long as his _packmates_ were safe, he didn’t need anyone else.

“Please, Kuroo…”

He wouldn’t listen. He wouldn’t pay them any mind.

He simply would not see anyone he loved being taken away again. Like Shibayama, like Yaku.

He would not tolerate it, and Akaashi’s deceiving beauty would not make him change his mind: that man was not a friend, and would never be a loved one.

“Kuroo, listen, there is a way, there is still hope for all of us.”

Where? Where could he see that infamous hope?

It was easy to convince any fool with that vague emptiness. One might argue that hope sparks life and strength.

Kuroo didn’t need hope. He had all the strength he needed, and all the loved ones he cared for.

You can’t save your friends from tangible threats with something as frail as “hope”.

“Bokuto hasn’t given up, him…”

Kuroo stopped dead in his track.

His blood was frozen again, as if someone was toying with the very temperature of his body; so close to simply making him lose his mind.

His hairs stood on their ends under the chill. Had he been an animal, he’d have looked so much bigger…

Slowly, he turned around.

The pupils in his eyes had constricted in amber slits.

He watched as Semi tensed up, as Sugawara’s gaze darkened. Tendou’s expression softened in concern, pity; maybe even sorrow.

He watched, but didn’t pay any mind to the cues in their body language that indicated he was turning into a beast under their very eyes.

Maybe that was why Ferals scared humans so much. They simply felt more - felt _so much_ , with a raw intensity that made their very being shift to the eyes of others. Love, hatred, fear... Every emotion was enhanced, making them absolutely apt for protection.

When Kuroo bared his teeth, it was the Alpha that spoke, “What did you say?”

His speech barely sounded human. The syllables were too spaced, his voice too low, too strained. He was too still, as if ready to pounce.

Tendou shook his head. What love and fear could do to a man, they sadly could not control... 

“I’m saying Bokuto has been talking to Akaashi for the past five days.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HIYA~~
> 
> I'm SO SO late this time, but aaaaaaaaaaaah I'm sorry I had completely forgotten my two weeks were up lmao  
> Also university is starting again, so I think my updates will remain wonky but EH I PROMISE I'LL TRY TO STICK TO MY SCHEDULE
> 
> This chapter was the last "annoying" one to write for me, so I'm hoping the future ones are gonna be more interesting for you and for me! For now, everything is going according to my detailed plan!
> 
> Ah! Before I forget! I started writing a Parenthood AU for Jujutsu Kaisen with a friend. If you love Gojo, Nanami, Sukuna, Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi, and if you want to see them as a happy lil family, you can check it out ;) It's called "Family Expansion" (cause Domain Expansion lmao if you know u know)
> 
> POP QUIZ (not mandatory of course):  
> \- Is Akaashi finally going to get sick or not lmao?  
> \- Is Akaashi a puppy or a monster?  
> \- Is Kuroo's reaction legitimate? Are his beliefs wrong, or are the three Betas right? Is it all black and white?  
> \- What do you think is going to happen now that Kuroo knows about Bokuto and Akaashi?
> 
> Next chapter, interesting stuff will happen! And we'll get a comeback from characters you've been waiting for ;)
> 
> See you in two weeks!!!


	10. Nature Morte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi reflects, and Kuroo confronts Bokuto.
> 
> MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING: very dubious consent/ statutory rape/ grooming/ (sexual) torture/ mention of forced pregancy/ PTSD/ victim blaming/ mention of murder / mention of violence / mature terms / yelling
> 
> This piece of work remains vague when it comes to describing heavy topics, but everything that is aforementioned will remain heavily implied. Please read at your own discretion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING: very dubious consent/ statutory rape/ grooming/ (sexual) torture/ mention of forced pregnancy / PTSD/ victim blaming/ mention of murder / mention of violence / mature terms / yelling
> 
> This piece of work remains vague when it comes to describing heavy topics, but everything that is aforementioned will remain heavily implied. Please read at your own discretion.

Akaashi had always found the Control Room concept insanely stupid. 

Between its walls, it was like being a king, but only in name. Like the Queen of England, for example.

The Control Room was a box, to put it simply. A box from which you could see everything without anyone seeing you in return, for its two longest sides were long tinted windows. One faced the entrance door of the Feral Control Center, and one faced the main Study Room. Many other computers and buttons allowed the guard on duty to monitor the rest of the cells, the labs, the secondary study rooms… 

But existing in that pretty glass box made you feel like you could control everything, for you could see everything. And more importantly, you had a perfect view, for both the main Study Room and the entrance hall were a floor below you.

Being in that box, you could tower over your kingdom, and that was about it.

You couldn’t do anything, from a box. Couldn’t stop anyone from entering or exiting, not even close cell doors. The Control Room was filled with mics and cameras; you could only watch, as passive as a monarch ought to be in a world where titles held no power any longer.

Akaashi found it incredibly ironic for powerful people to stand in that Control Room and call it an honour. He found little to no pride in being in the room heartless monarchs had designated as their rightful throne to witness the flow of people walking into their estate, or to watch as men were being tortured down below in the Study Room. The view from the top seemed a tasteless one.

How thrilling must it be for those men-kings not to smell the blood, the fluids, not to hear the screams. All that mattered to them was being able to witness, safe behind that window and its soundproof anonymity. 

Akaashi was a soldier. No matter which facility he had been held into, Study Rooms like this one were his training grounds, and had seen far too many of his heats, or similar tortures inflicted on his kind for the sake of science. He’d have rather called it voyeurism, but his opinion was not one that the monsters listened to.

Now, as he stood on the other side of the dark window, Akaashi couldn’t tear his eyes away from the white, sanitized box down below.

The only difference he saw between the two rooms was that the one was higher, with more screens and a better viewpoint; it was no less of a box.

Yet, unlike the powerful human beings that ruled the place, Akaashi was no king when he stood in the Control Room. He was a guest, and every word had to be measured.

So he spoke none, and waited, arms neatly folded behind his back in a military posture.

It had to be a bit after noon now. He’d been picked off the Street roughly an hour ago, and had changed into a dry version of the same grey outfit he’d worn for a week and a few years of his life. This tight yet comfortable clothing allowed for great movement amplitude and no imagination; it was the battle suit of the Trained Ferals units.

The fabric itched as much as it did on the first day, yet Akaashi paid it no mind: his pain wasn’t his anymore. Giving in to tears or to the desire to scratch himself would be giving the assholes the satisfaction of seeing him weaken.

Now, Akaashi felt in silence.

He’d been waiting in the Control Room for a little over fifteen minutes, and his body was getting antsy. If he took a glance to the right, he could catch the golden light of the sun bathing in the entrance hall; he’d become good at seeking sunbeams. 

His lungs suddenly inflated with boredom, and he took a long breath. His bruised throat pressed against the cold metal of his collar, making his lips twitch. The soldiers that had fetched him had readjusted the item, yet the past week’s pain wouldn’t disappear in a snap of their fingers.

Akaashi let out a soft groan, muffled by the large muzzle that had been placed on his face again.

Everything hurt, but at least he wasn’t cold anymore.

He was home.

Behind him, the door opened, and a familiar scent of cologne violated his sensitive nostrils. His eyes narrowed on the wall in front of him, pupils constricting not to lose sight of the dark concrete. He had to focus on what could ground him, and let the rest slide off his body with ease.

A shiver ran up Akaashi’s spine, but he stood still; he had known greater chills on the Street.

“Keiji! It’s been so long! How are you doing, my darling?”

Akaashi’s throat turned dry, anger boiling in his body. How dared he call him that…

Every tear or drop of saliva had been consumed by the raging heat of a week of cold fury. He had no words to describe his state; the soreness of his muscles, his dug-out stomach and the red mark around his throat spoke louder than any sentence he could utter.

Slowly, Akaashi turned around, hands tightly wrung together behind his back. He cast cold blue eyes on Commander Arhiman’s square jaw and rough frame; he couldn’t look him in the eyes.

“I am perfectly well, sir. Thank you for asking.”

The lie in his voice only amused the other man, and a cruel grin slit his face in two. Akaashi’s jaw stiffened, but he did not move an inch. Flinching meant losing, so when Arhiman walked towards him, Keiji remained absolutely still.

Only his chest felt the agitation of a heart that wants to flee.

"Mmh really? Well that's good, Keiji! Now, I can barely hear you with that thing on. Let’s deal with that, shall we?”

He brought two large hands to the sides of Akaashi’s face, calmly pressing the security locks. The Omega locked a dull gaze on the wall behind him, making his mind blank not to feel the atrocious presence by his side. Arhiman stood close, close enough for their legs to touch. He hated it.

Soon, the air caressed Akaashi’s lips, and he was left with nothing but the muzzle’s framework on. Arhiman took a step back as if to admire a piece of art; Keiji wished he’d been a painting. Frozen in time, cherished and admired – never touched.

How safe must a life of stillness be… 

“Much better,” Arhiman purred, his dark eyes shimmering – was it lust, or the sun? Akaashi couldn’t dare to believe the warm star that had protected him from the cold could give humane sparks to this man’s gaze.

“So, how was your stay in the Observation Area?" he continued, turning around to go and fiddle mindlessly with the screens.

"Uneventful, sir."

Arhiman nodded, bringing a hand to his nape so as to scratch the hairs that grew there. The sound of his nails racking the flesh sounded like a cheese grater, and the Omega’s eyes dived to the floor to avoid the repulsive sight.

"Mmmh I see… That's kind of an issue, now, right, Keiji?" he spoke in a sharper tone.

Akaashi received his words’ blow like any other, with a stiffening stand and a racing mind. Words spared his body the marks of hits, but they announced a far greater suffering: Keiji had failed, and he was going to pay the cost, whether it be mental or physical.

He kept his eyes on the ground and swallowed dryly; the sharp blade of his eyes had been blunted by the past week. He could not fight back.

Bokuto would probably tease him if he saw him in that state. However, now was not the time to think about him.

“I apologize for my failure,” Akaashi calmly stated, “I haven’t been able to gather enough data to Discover any Feral aside from-”

Akaashi marked a brief pause, during which the sun caressed his cheek in a warm touch. His eyes widened briefly, and the bright beam of a certain Alpha soothed the aches of his mind.

It always felt like everything would be okay when Bokuto was around…

Could he really betray him? Could he really betray Bokuto’s friends?

A week ago, he wouldn’t have hesitated. But his superiors had made the mistake of trapping him in a cage with kind souls, and he had tasted the sweetness of their everyday laughs and grins. 

Akaashi’s heart ached for another day on the Street.

Yet he had no choice, had he?

His condition burst back into his mind with brutal coldness: he was a soldier, and his only shot at survival was to fire the gun. 

There in that Control Room, facing Arhiman, he could see Bokuto. The Alpha was watching him with a smile worth a thousand words. He’d become a beacon of hope.

Yet Akaashi would only have to raise his hand and shoot… 

And he would. 

He tore his gaze off Bokuto’s kind smile, and found cold gravity in Arhiman’s inattentive figure. Bokuto could not protect him, but loyalty could. It probably was an entirely fake and conditional freedom, but it kept him alive. Akaashi could not win against the fear of death burning in his soul.

He cleared his throat, “Aside from-”

“Keiji, you know I have utmost faith in you, right?”

Akaashi tensed up, swallowing his tongue not to speak a word more. Arhiman was facing the Study Room now, hands folded behind his back. His lack of interest in the Omega’s report gave him the advantage of time; he still needed to think about how he should phrase his betrayal – or proof of loyalty. Whichever name suited his aching mind. 

With a little luck, he’d be able to keep Bokuto off the hook…

Akaashi’s gaze settled on the grey wall again.

“I do, sir.”

“The Eastern Observation Area of Tokyo is the only Area in Japan that took a year to Discover its first Ferals. However, we are also blessed with being the first Area of Tokyo to Discover Omegas.”

Akaashi frowned, gazing up to him. Arhiman was still facing the Observation Area, unreadable.

“I’m afraid I do not understand, sir. Was I not captu- taken in, in Tokyo?”

Arhiman let out a light chuckle that sent a shiver up Akaashi’s spine, “But you’re my special one, Keiji~” he purred with a wink, “Plus, you were found long before the beginning of the Street System. What was it? Two… Three years ago?”

“Four.”

Akaashi’s voice came out dryer than he intended, breaking in a strangled sound. The wink had made his heart tighten. The nickname had broken it.

The Omega cleared his throat, lowering his gaze and voice, “I was taken in four years ago.”

Found whimpering in a back alley. An eighteen years old kid going through his first heats.

He’d been denounced fast enough due to the growing fear amongst the population since the Feral Outbreak that had taken place merely a year ago.

Akaashi could still remember the blurry picture of the soldiers that had picked him up, their insults and control sticks. The utter, unbearable coldness surrounding a body that only craved warmth.

Arhiman’s nasal laughter grounded him back again, and Akaashi shivered.

“Four years already! And you’ve grown into quite the little soldier! I was right to suggest you had to integrate the Trained Ferals unit.”

He turned around, his dark gaze penetrating Akaashi’s body with untold intensity. For a second, the Omega turned eighteen again, frightened and helpless.

But it only lasted a second.

Silence, calmness, obedience. Akaashi stood still, as he had been taught to.

“I trust you, Keiji, and I trust your judgment. If you didn’t Discover any Ferals, then we just have to find a way to make them uncover themselves.”

Arhiman turned back towards the Study Room. Two scientists in white clothing had walked in, preparing a chair to which were attached several straps.

The sight tied Akaashi’s stomach into a ball, and he let the honey-spoken words twirl in his mind.

“This is why we are going to conduct experiments,” Arhiman continued, “We have new specimens just in, after all.”

As he spoke, Akaashi’s eyes widened on the frail figure that the scientists were now dragging inside the Study Room. He lost his breath for a split second.

It was yet another one of _those_ scenes. The actors had barely walked on stage that Keiji knew the whole show was going to be a tragedy. 

Shibayama Yuuki stood there, like the ghost of an ancient story Akaashi. The story of a boy he’d barely seen, dripping with his own despair. Of a young man he had seduced and betrayed.

He hadn’t seen Shibayama nor Yaku in weeks, and he’d have rather never seen them again. The disgust he had seen in Yaku’s eyes was far unlike that in the humans’. It was more real, filled with more pain, and Akaashi couldn’t quite understand why this distaste was unbearable to him.

Shibayama was shaking slightly, wide eyes gazing around the hospital-white room. He couldn’t see them, but when his frightened eyes fell on the dark window, Akaashi had to gaze away. 

The young Omega had lost enough weight for the pastel-blue cotton outfit to hide his features, and he’d grown paler from the lack of exposure to the sun. Akaashi remembered his hair to be slightly shorter, his face just a bit softer. He’d met a boy, and wasn’t sure this broken creature could still be called one.

Keiji swallowed dryly, clenching his fists behind his back.

“Has he not been fed?”

“He has!” Arhiman sighed, pressing a finger to the window as if pointing towards the young Omega could prove his point, “The guards have told me he always leaves half of his food on the plate. But look, he’s had a daily shower! We made sure he remained in good shape.”

Anger burned in Akaashi’s eyes, but he simply gazed at the room again. Had he been properly taken care of, Shibayama wouldn’t have lost that much weight. Some guards like Pang made a hilarious game out of eating the Ferals’ food under their very eyes; Akaashi couldn’t count the nights he’d spent starving because of this asshole.

A forbidden question played on his lips, but he failed to find the right words to express it. After all, his place was to observe and shut up.

Yet, a deep, churning coldness tightened his core, stiffened his stance: had Shibayama been allowed to see Yaku in the last two weeks?

Which answer was the most positive one, Akaashi couldn’t tell.

All he knew was that the poor boy had a terrible glimmer in the eyes, and Akaashi saw himself in his slouched posture. He saw a broken child, a ghost from the past; and it made his heart ache with regrets.

The guards had tied Shibayama to the chair, strapping him in place. Yet Yuuki did not seem to look at them nor respond. He was like a rag doll, slumping forward in silence. 

Akaashi swallowed dryly, “Why have you asked for me to be here?”

“Well, I simply want you to bear witness to the experiment, Keiji!” the Commander grinned, taking a step to the side to stand against Akaashi.

Akaashi refrained from shivering at the friction of this large, unkind body against his. He made it his duty to keep his head high and his eyes screwed on Shibayama.

Arhiman was watching him; he could feel his burning eyes on his skin, on the edge of his jaw, seeking his eyes. 

And then dropping. 

Down, down below, appreciating the whole of his body. 

A clock pulsed in Akaashi’s brain, an exhausting rhythm; he counted the seconds until the Commander gazed back towards the Study Room.

“Japan has been the starting point for Doctor Rocester’s research. The mutation began here, and we’ve had many cases, as you probably know. However, did you know, my Keiji, that Japan has the lowest rate of Discovered Omegas in the entire world?”

Keiji would have slit his throat. Right here, on the spot. He’d been trained to find the arteries with no hesitation. But he remained as silent as he was required to be, and kept his eyes screwed on the boy as the scientists started placing electrodes of all sorts on his body.

“I didn’t know that.”

“Well, we do! The highest rate is the United States, followed by France. But Japan has barely Discovered more than a few hundred. In terms of Discovery ratio, we have been much luckier when it comes to Alphas! We have over two thousands of them in Control Centers all across the country! Now, Betas are much more complex to find, mind you. They don’t have ruts nor heats. But they’re the least dangerous, so their Discovery rate doesn’t really matter.”

Akaashi barely listened to his rant, preferring to focus on Shibayama’s situation. The scientists had finished placing the electrodes, and they were leaving the room in a seemingly light-hearted conversation. They inspired nothing but disgust in Akaashi’s heart, and he used to have great respect for science.

Arhiman simply shook his head, “Ah, they will start soon.”

Start what? Akaashi’s heart was filling with dread already.

“You know, Keiji, you’ve been quite lucky that I found you and got you into the Trained Feral program. It’s usually reserved to Alphas and Betas. We have so few Omegas, which is why my superiors wanted to use you for experiments. But when I saw you…” Akaashi didn’t need to see him to know that his lips had split into a devilish grin. He knew that smile by heart, “You blew me away, Keiji. And I knew you had potential for greatness. You were… so much more than a fucktoy.”

He raised a hand a pressed it to Akaashi’s cheek. It was cold, rough. Akaashi didn’t move nor twitch; had he done so, he would have never forgiven himself. His eyes remained cold like two stones, watching Shibayama and waiting.

Waiting for _it_ to happen. Whatever it was.

Before Arhiman could continue, Akaashi spoke in a strained, level voice, “What experiment is he to go through?”

The Commander turned aside with a sigh that testified for his annoyance at Akaashi’s rebuttal. He still answered with not much of a fuss.

“We have asked for rut pheromones to be delivered from the Western FCC. They have quite a few Alphas there, and one of them has gone through a rut a few days ago.”

Akaashi tensed up. Rut pheromones. 

How dared they? How could they?

Anger burned through his lungs and chest, barring him from uttering a single word. The other Omega’s heats had taken place barely a few weeks ago. This scent wouldn’t trigger any other heat, but it would surely be a painful and embarrassing experience.

“We’re going to see his reaction as we spread those pheromones through the room,” Arhiman continued, “His hormonal levels will be measured, as well as his neuronal activity. We crucially lack data on Omegas, especially their heats and their response to Alpha stimuli.”

Akaashi managed to clear his throat, keeping his head as straight as could be, “But you’ve Discovered over… a hundred Omegas. These are matters you should have found already-”

“Other countries aren’t keen on sharing information,” the Commander cut him, “You may call that geopolitics. But well, the main issue is that the Omega death rate in our centers is of 100%.”

A hundred.

A hundred percent.

Akaashi’s heart stopped beating for far too long. He could not believe it, and yet his jaw twitched. 

He knew Arhiman was watching him.

But a hundred percent.

His mind flew to the first man. The poor man from the article, with a fully grown uterus.

He could just throw up.

“W… Why…?” he managed to articulate. He could hardly speak the word, could hardly link his own voice to his being. Even Shibayama’s increasingly agitated figure seemed distant.

“Well, what can I tell you, Keiji? Fear and myths. Omegas are seen as the perfect bitches, and so I guess some guards enjoy a rewarding service once in a while.”

A dark chuckle escaped his lips, and Akaashi fought his own tears, “It wouldn’t be much of a problem if those idiots did not believe Omegas were _engineered_ to withstand any kind of sexual fantasy, like… sucking dicks without needing to breathe, for example. But myths are what they are, I suppose!”

In the Study Room, Shibayama was thrashing against the links. Akaashi watched him, mind filled with untold horrors. He watched as the boy started tearing up, as his jaw fell down in screams and whines that the window silenced. He saw the frail body arching, and a humiliating puddle spreading between his legs.

Akaashi saw himself, in his stead. He saw what could have been, and what happened to others.

Arhiman was right: Akaashi was a lucky one. Oh so _fucking_ lucky… 

“We want to exploit him to understand Omega pheromones better,” Arhiman continued, “The other one hasn’t gone through his first heats yet, so he is of less use to us regarding that matter.”

Akaashi’s mind flew to Yaku. The man he had betrayed.

Was his survival rate that low too? Was he even alive?

He watched, body so cold he might as well be dead. He watched as his alter-ego stopped thrashing around, and shivered on his torture chair without another movement. 

Then, the Omega raised his head, and through the window and his dark locks, Akaashi’s dull eyes met his burning one. His heart skipped a beat.

Tears soaked Shibayama’s face and ignited his gaze with a thousand flames of pain and fury.

His reflection’s jaw dropped again, in another scream. It felt rawer, and Akaashi’s breath caught in his throat.

_I hate you._

Again and again. Those three words, the rounding of the lips, the heaving of the chest.

This shivering beast, Akaashi knew it by heart. 

He’d stood in his shoes on that day, when Pang beat him to the ground in front of the other Ferals.

What a ridiculous idea this Control Room was.

Unable to be seen, they were guessed. The invisible enemy was clearer than blood on the snow when you stood in that fake hospital cell. You could see this dark, tinted window, and whoever stood on its other side was the enemy.

Akaashi was the enemy. And Shibayama spoke this truth while staring him in the eyes.

“What have you done to him?”

The question escaped his lips in a breath that Keiji did not try to control. This much hatred had to spring from a deep wound. What did they do to this boy for Akaashi to recognize himself in that unbearable fury?

“Nothing I haven’t done to you.”

Keiji lost his breath and turned around in sharp movement. His blue eyes met Arhiman’s laughing expression, and Akaashi realized he had lost to him.

Responded to his tricks and words like a well-trained dog. Completely tamed.

The Commander chuckled and raised a cold hand to pet his cheek, “Why, my Keiji, do not look at me like that. I made sure no one hurt him. We can’t afford to lose him and his friend, after all.”

He shook his head and turned away from the window, already bored with the show he had ordered for himself in his kingly box. 

“We have already made the arrangements to bring a few Alphas from the Western Area. These two are to be the first Japanese-bred Omegas.”

Akaashi’s blood boiled fast, too fast. For a second of weakness, he answered to instinct and instinct alone.

The Omega pounced forward, and grabbed his monster’s shirt. He pinned him to one of the control boards, ocean eyes shimmering like blades once again. 

He’d been trained to bite.

Yet, Arhiman offered him an easy grin, barely fazed by his sudden outburst. His heartless eyes laughed, an inch away from Akaashi’s desperate fury. He raised another hand to caress his stiff jaw.

“Why, Keiji… We both know it wouldn’t be in your best interest to go through with that little temper tantrum of yours, would it?”

Akaashi shivered, every bone in his body aching from the freezing feeling of helplessness. His body couldn’t move an inch more if he wanted to. He’d been beaten into turning madness into allegiance, and his own body had thrown icy water of the raging fire of his pain.

If he touched that man, he would be as good as dead.

Akaashi exhaled sharply, and gathered his entire strength into straightening up. His stiff hands let go of the fabric, knuckles hurting from the friction. This pain couldn’t compare to the uneven beats of his heart anyway.

He took a sharp inhale, shutting his eyes tight as he took a step back, wringing his hands together behind his back.

“Sir,” he spoke in a strangled voice, “I beg you to reconsider. A… forcing them into a pregnancy… It’s… inhuman...” 

Akaashi didn’t expect much from his weak confession. He didn’t expect mercy from this man.

But he certainly did not expect him to burst out laughing.

He watched with wide eyes as Arhiman threw his head back in absolute hilarity, exposing his rough, badly shaven throat.

Give Akaashi a knife, and he would have slit it.

His eyes narrowed as the Commander wiped his tears away, “That’s… Keiji… He is _not_ human. There is no reason for you to put yourself in such a state! I’m sure you’ve lived your whole life without worrying about dog breeding, after all…”

Akaashi’s stomach churned as he gazed down. He’d never thought about dogs, it was true. If he had been given another shot at life, maybe he’d have been a different man. Maybe he’d have been kinder, to both other humans and to himself.

Maybe he’d have been able to look at himself in the mirror.

He bit on his lower lip, his voice coming out as a feeble whisper that emotion broke, “But sir, I am like them.”

Those dogs, those Ferals.

He was like them, no matter what he believed.

The only difference, surely was that they remained wild and free, while he was tamed and silenced.

He could never look them in the eyes again, never accept their smiles and kindness.

Akaashi was a passive man, a witness.

He’d never stood up for himself.

So how could he stand for them-

“No, you are not, Akaashi.”

The harsh tone tore him out of his delusion, and the Omega raised weakened eyes to the man whose neck he had almost broken. 

Arhiman was so much taller. Or maybe was it that he shrank in front of him… 

“I’ve saved you,” the Commander continued, dark eyes glimmering with dissatisfaction, “I’ve trained you. You are mine.”

Akaashi shivered upon those words, lowering his eyes even more if physically possible. Cold hands, rough and unwelcome, captured his cheeks in fake softness. They pressed the cold metal of his muzzle’s framework into his delicate skin. Keiji flinched, but the hands forced him into stillness. 

He gazed up, suddenly face to face with a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

“If I could, my Keiji…” Arhiman breathed out, caressing his cheeks, “If only I could, I would give you a child…”

Akaashi felt eighteen again. 

“You know that, right, my darling?”

His past self would have broken into tears, screamed and pushed him away. He would have sobbed for anyone, anyone to save him.

But he wasn’t eighteen anymore, and he’d been taught not to scream anymore. 

He’d been taught not to feel, but how could he not ache for a time when his body belonged to him? When he was free to cry and yell, to rise and fall?

He’d never been a powerful man, but at least he had been free.

Now, what could he do with that knife mastery, with those military techniques? He couldn’t even use them to kill a monster, couldn’t even use them to bring two boys back to where they belonged, to protect them, reassure them, make them smile-

Smile.

Akaashi’s mind stilled.

He remembered a star he’d met. A star who called him scarier than a puppy, who beamed at him.

If anything, Bokuto was much more helpless than he was. He lived in hiding and in a cage, he knew no fighting techniques. His warm eyes did not freeze opponents in mortal lethargy, but rather soothed and comforted them.

And yet his smile – as fake and little as it could be in Akaashi’s life, had brought him hope.

It had warmed his heart up, had soothed his painful days. It held an untold power that Akaashi had clung to for hope in the coldest nights.

Maybe all that Shibayama and Yaku needed, in the end, was a ray of hope… 

“If you loved me…” Akaashi breathed out against Arhiman’s hands, “You’d give me the boy.”

Hope, as fickle as it was.

Hope against terror, hope against weakness.

When Akaashi spoke, he had locked eyes with Arhiman again; beautiful, powerful eyes that had terrified and seduced countless men Akaashi had had to win against for his own survival.

His blue irises shone with a soft glimmer of hope that he carefully crafted into perfectly mastered deception: behind the pained mask of his beautiful gaze now hid a murderous attempt, contained and filled with insightful patience.

The wildest of beasts was lurking.

The Commander frowned upon spotting the distress in his eyes, before shaking his head. He dropped his hands to his side.

“Keiji-”

Akaashi grabbed his wrists. Swift and careful, elegant and demure. He took hold of those wrists he wanted to snap, and held them in terribly soft hands. 

The motion startled the other man, more in its affection than in its execution. He watched as the Omega offered him a pained, helpless smile, reaching for his hands with utmost care. 

He seemed so fragile… Like a carnivorous plant. 

“Seeing him in that state…” Akaashi continued in a tear-filled breath, “It made my body respond. I felt a sudden attachment to that boy, simply from seeing him. It must be my Omega instincts, I just… I don’t think it was a good idea for me to witness this… I apologize for my reactions, I am not myself at the moment…”

Arhiman watched him, and Akaashi spotted the twitches of confusion play around on his once smug face.

Good.

“True, you’ve overstepped,” the other man sighed, scratching the back of his neck.

Akaashi lowered his eyes, wringing his hands together in anxious expectation. He made a show out of biting his lips not to cry, and forced himself to nod weakly.

His heart twitched in victory as Arhiman sighed.

“But, if it really bothers you, I can give you the little black-haired one… I mean, look at him, his heats weren’t triggered by the ruts. He’s probably infertile. We have no real interest in training more agents at the moment, especially Omegas, but if you insist, I could register him in the Trained Feral program, and you could be his mentor. We could still study that strange bond you’ve felt towards him today as a part of our research.”

Akaashi’s stomach sunk in relief, but he focused on not dropping the act. He kept his head low, and his expression filled with gratitude. 

Japanese officials knew close to nothing of Omegas, and Arhiman’s twisted affection for him had allowed the Omega to purr him straight into a trap.

“I… Thank you, sir,” Keiji breathed out in a little bow, “Thank you so much, sir.” 

Arhiman let out a non-committal groan, while Akaashi’s mind continued to run at full speed. He needed to prove his genuine belief in the cause, and beyond that, he needed to convince Arhiman that he had no second-thoughts or scheme behind this sudden change in behaviour.

Luckily for him, his own charms played in his favour. Now he simply needed to act dumb and ask stupid questions; most men of power loved it, and considered it a clear sigh of naiveness. 

“But what tells you the other one would have been triggered by pheromones?” Akaashi thus breathed out, “Maybe Omegas are simply not sensitive to rut pheromones when they don’t have their heats…”

“Well, it does affect them, as you’ve seen, but it doesn’t trigger them,” Arhiman obviously confessed, “However, we’ve used our rut pheromones stocks for this one. We’ll just have to test the other’s response by using actual Alphas. The chosen breeders should arrive in two days. And you know, we’ll just try to make them mate! We’ll know soon enough if it _catches_ or not.”

Akaashi’s stomach twitched, but he did not let it appear. He focused on appearing as frail and broken as possible, from his watering eyes to his feeble smile. There, pressed against Arhiman’s chest, the desire to flee was stronger than ever. 

But he had no choice. Using Arhiman’s wicked feelings was his only shot at saving the two Omegas.

If Shibayama was placed under his tutoring, he could keep him out of harm’s way for a while.

Even following Arhiman’s indication, Akaashi had a shot at saving Yaku too. He simply had to come up with a plan within two days, before the Alphas’ arrival.

He could do it. All he needed was hope, and he’d been surrounded with it lately.

“I see…” he breathed out, straightening up, “Thank you again, sir-”

Arhiman grabbed his wrists, and Akaashi’s body stiffened again.

He gazed up, meeting that painful twisted glimmer in the Commander’s glare that never failed to make him miserable. 

Keiji’s eyes widened weakly, and his lips parted in confusion.

“Not so fast, my Keiji~” Arhiman cooed with a grin, slowly pressing him back towards the window. “I did say that I would make this happen _if_ you insisted.”

Akaashi’s back hit the cold glass, hard and unforgiving. His heart sped up, and he kept his eyes locked with the monster’s. If he looked away... Lord, if he looked away, he’d lose all kind of grip...

Arhiman dragged his large hands down Akaashi’s hips, making him shiver. He just needed to cling to hope. He just needed to hold on a little longer.

The Commander slowly made him turn around, face to face with the white Study Room. Akaashi pressed the palm of his hands against the freezing surface. Hoping it would ground him down.

Arhiman’s warm breath caressed the back of his neck, his ear, “It’s now time for you to insist, my precious beauty…”

Akaashi’s stomach sunk to his heels. Gravity crushed his bones, stole the strength from his muscles, and yet he stood still.

Like a statue, or maybe, like a victim of Pompeii. Forever frozen in horror and humanity by a burning inferno he couldn’t flee.

Akaashi hoped it would be fast.

“Aren’t you lucky, to have me obeying your every whim?” Arhiman cooed, “You’re not as unfortunate as most Ferals. Even Pang has noticed how kind I am to you.”

Hands trailed over his shirt, his back, fiddled with the hem of his clothes. Pulled and brushed. Caressed and held.

“Do you have any idea of how much trouble I would be in if our love was discovered?”

Lucky.

Akaashi was lucky. He knew that.

He was a Feral who was loved.

He was an Omega who was alive

“You should be grateful you stand on that side of the glass, my Keiji…”

As he spoke, Arhiman reached up to squeeze his jaw in a firm hand. He raised his head so that Akaashi could watch Shibayama’s sobbing figure. That poor boy he knew so well, folded in two on a chair, trapped in a cage.

Just on the other side of the window against which Akaashi was to give in.

God, that hope Bokuto inspired him better be worth the silence and insistence…

He stood still. A still life. He’d learnt the French term for these paintings, in a faraway life.

 _Nature Morte_. Dead Nature.

Akaashi thus stood still, staring at himself in the dark window.

He wished he was a _nature morte_.

*****

“Strip.”

“What?”

“Oh goddamnit Bokuto, _strip_. The scent never comes off with that cheap perfume of yours, you know that…”

Bokuto bit on his lower lip, before bringing his arm to his nose. He took a few whiffs, before accepting that Konoha was right: no amount of lavender could cover Akaashi’s fresh perfume. 

Every day since he had started sneaking out to meet the Omega behind Kuroo’s back, Koutarou had tried to cover the Omega’s furious pheromones with lavender perfume.

And every day, Konoha and Kenma glared at him and told him he should just put the clothes in the washing machine.

“I’m just trying to reduce our water consumption!” he argued in a whine, “Our bill at the laundromat is gonna be insane! My pheromones smell like lavender, I keep telling you it’s _fine_ -”

“Please, Kuroo would find it insanely weird if he came home to you drenched in your own pheromones for no sensible reason,” Kenma groaned, sprawled on the couch with his Switch in hands, “We’ve had this conversation already…”

Bokuto gazed up to him with a wounded puppy face, and he shook his head, “I still believe I’m right...”

Konoha sighed, before pouncing towards him. He aimed for his ribcage and poked it, again and again, making Bokuto squirm and screech.

“Get. Out. Of. These. God. Damn. Clothes. You. Airhead.”

Bokuto danced his way out of Konoha’s heartless touch, wiggling out of his shirt with a few choked chuckles.

“Konohaaaa stoooooop,” he whined, tears pearling on the corner of his eyes as the Beta offered him a sly grin. As Bokuto battled with the piece of fabric, Konoha took the opportunity to jump on him again, tickling his sides and armpits with merciless dexterity.

“That’s for hanging out with a pissed Omega every day and coming home stinking like a wild dog.”

Bokuto gasped, before letting out ungodly screams and cries. From his perspective, Kenma felt like he was watching a violently wiggling octopus… 

“KO- KONO- NO STOP- KONOHAAAAA PLEASE”

After a few seconds of hell, Bokuto managed to get rid of his shirt, and his golden eyes sought Konoha’s figure for revenge. The Beta grinned at him, and watched as Koutarou’s irises glimmered in absolute focus: he was going to get murdered.

“Konoha,” the Alpha growled.

“Bokuto,” the other purred.

They stood a few feet apart, shoulders arched and eyes alert. Kenma took a glance at them, and let out a long sigh before burying his chin back against his chest to focus on his game. These guys were children.

After a few seconds of staring duel, Bokuto let out a war cry and pounced on his friend. Konoha’s expression went from amused to terrified as the Alpha crushed him into a hug, tickling his sides. He let out an explosive breath, gasping for air with wide eyes.

“BOKUTO YOUR STRENGTH I WILL DIE”

“That’s your problem now!” the other purred viciously, burying his nose in his neck just because he could. Ah, he truly loved this cookie dough scent… 

“BOKUTO YOU BEEFY IDIOT”

Kenma snorted from the couch. He gazed up again, almond eyes witnessing the very homo-erotic play fight that was happening in their living room. 

Dumbasses, that these two were. But Kenma couldn’t deny their friendly banter brought liveliness to the house.

A very shirtless Bokuto suddenly picked Konoha up, making him twirl around. Akinori gasped and groaned, pressing his hands to his friend’s shoulders.

“Dude, that’s totally unfair. You’re lifting me like an empty box. All jokes aside, you really got all the beef to yourself.”

“Well that’s cause I work out~”

“I work out too!”

“Barely. At this rate, you won’t be able to satisfy Komimi in bed, _Akinator_.”

Kenma let out another snort, while Konoha gazed down at his Alpha’s smug grin with a wonderfully shocked expression.

“What did you just call me?”

Bokuto snickered and clacked his tongue, “A. Ki. Na. Tor.”

Konoha blinked, before very calmly leaning in. He was an inch away from those indecent lips of his.

“Bokuto. I’ll turn you into ground beef.”

Bokuto burst out laughing, but before Konoha could even move, the front door was slammed open.

Kuroo’s scent filled the place in and stole their smiles.

He was furious.

Bokuto’s arms tightened around Konoha as he slowly brought him down. His golden eyes watched the front door with instinctive anxiety. On the couch, Kenma stood up, throat tightening.

Kuroo dashed in, slamming the door after himself. Bokuto could hardly believe this fuming Alpha was his best friend. He swallowed dryly, taking in the sight of his huffing chest, slack jaw, sweaty skin. Even his shirt seemed drenched, as if he had run all the way back from the park.

And he had probably done so: he was home way, _way_ too early. Bokuto was still soaked in Akaashi’s scent.

“Kuroo,” he articulated with a forced smile, “What-”

“So you’re seeing _him._ ”

Bokuto swallowed dryly, shaking his head. He had a hand wrapped around Konoha’s waist, holding him close.

“Kuroo, I can explain-”

“Explain _what_?”

The way Kuroo spat the words out made Kenma shiver. He stood up to approach despite the waves of distress and anger oozing off of Tetsurou’s body.

Bokuto shook his head, at loss for words.

“I simply… He was alone, in the cold and the rain… I figured it couldn’t hurt…”

Who had sold him out? He’d crossed paths with so many friends over the past few days. Who could have told Kuroo about his meetings with Akaashi?

“Bokuto, I told you already,” Kuroo spoke through gritted teeth, “If one of us falls, the entire household falls.”

He took a step forward, and Bokuto cast his eyes to the ground. His heart was going to explode in his chest, and he knew the terrifying pheromones Kuroo was emitting had something to do with it.

Fear was pulsing through his veins, but there was something else. Something deeper.

_An Alpha is challenging you._

_Bare your fangs._

_Fight back._

Yet Bokuto silenced the inner voice, kept it chained. If only Kuroo could do the same, maybe they wouldn’t be having this conversation.

If only, for a split second, he could listen to his best friend rather than to this beast inside of him.

“Yaku’s household hasn’t fallen though-”

“IT’S A MATTER OF TIME.”

Bokuto felt Kenma flinch behind him, and his stomach twisted into a furious fist. He felt the beginning of a growl bubble in his throat.

_He is scaring the Omega._

_An Alpha is threatening your Omega._

He silenced his instincts again, swallowing a lump of fury. His eyes blazed with hazy anger and sorrow.

“Don’t yell, Kuroo...” he breathed out, “It’s no use. I visited Akaashi because I wanted to. He’s a sweet guy, underneath it all. Today, he even stopped trying to overwhelm me with pheromones-”

“So he did try to trigger you!”

Kuroo dashed forward, seething through gritted teeth. From up close, Bokuto witnessed the flicker of senseless fury that danced in his friend’s eyes, blinding him to perspectives other than his.

Konoha immediately extended an arm in between the two Alphas.

“It’s enough, Kuroo,” he spoke. Bokuto recognized a sharp hint of distress in his raw voice, “You aren’t controlling your pheromones. Calm down, it’s unbearable.”

Bokuto watched in silent horror as his best friend shot Konoha a cold, narrowing glare, “You knew. You all knew, and you hid it from me. I had to learn it from Sugawara and his friends.”

Konoha gulped and shook his head, “Bokuto hasn’t done anything wrong. He made sure not to say anything that could compromise us, and Akaashi was too weakened to try anything more than using his own pheromones.”

“ _Still_ ,” the Alpha growled, “I told you. I kept telling you. Over, and over, and _over_ again. I fucking _told_ you never to mess with him, never to approach him. And _you_ ,” his amber eyes met Bokuto’s frightened ones, “You went and made a _friend_ out of him?”

Koutarou’s breath caught in his throat under the accusation, and he couldn’t speak up if he wanted to. The Alpha within him was growling for him to fight, and keeping it in check was hard enough as it was without his best friend being so aggressive. He batted his lashes, again and again, feeling humidity pearl up in his eyes. He couldn’t cry, he couldn’t cry but _Lord_ , was it hard not to break down… 

He opened his mouth with a fickle breath, “Kuroo-”

“Bokuto talked to him, but he knew his behaviour was too reckless and unprecedented to rouse suspicious. Bokuto was also one of the first ones to try and befriend the other Ferals on this Street. Everyone knows he’s an outgoing person, no one suspects him.”

Kenma’s voice seemed distant, and Bokuto gulped in relief upon his intervention. He turned around, seeking him with grateful eyes, only to realise the Omega was indeed much further away. Kozume stood near the corridor, visibly distancing himself from the furious Alpha. He was hugging himself, yet maintained a straight posture and a calm expression. Only the tremor in his voice and the agitation in his scent betrayed his distress under the hormonal threat.

Kuroo looked up with burning eyes, shaking his head. His jaw seemed too stiff, and he suddenly felt so much bigger to Bokuto. As if his friend had turned into a beast…

“How can you be so sure, Kenma?”

Kozume’s eyes narrowed into slits, and he frowned, “You really think I would have let him join his little crush if it had truly put us in danger? You think so lowly of me, Kuroo, you’re ridiculous. When have I ever been wrong?”

Bokuto gulped, ignoring the heat spreading across his cheeks upon Kenma’s remark; his fear was far too great to waste time on feelings…

He pressed himself a little closer to Konoha, who gratefully took his hand to squeeze it. They watched as Kuroo let out a snicker, bringing a hand to his chin. The Alpha clawed his neck in stress, before shaking his head.

“Oh, I’m really sorry, Kenma. I didn’t notice I had hurt your feelings. After all, you didn’t seem to care much about mine when you allowed Bokuto to do such a dangerous thing behind my back. The whole lot of you decided that I wasn’t trustworthy, and now _I_ am the one hurting _your_ feelings?”

Kenma raised his chin, and Bokuto caught the glimmer of pain that flickered in his amber eyes. Kuroo and Kozume were best friends too, or used to, at least.

“Exactly, Kuroo. We couldn’t talk to you, because you’ve stopped thinking with your brain. You’re letting your instincts dictate your actions, and so we couldn’t confide in you.”

He offered him a bitter smile, “I know you’re struggling with your new body. I know it’s hard, and new. But it’s the same for all of us, or at least close to the same. We want to trust you, and we will, but if there is a handful of heart and sense left in you, use it to understand that you need to work on yourself before accusing us.”

Bokuto’s heart beat at an unsteady rhythm as his eyes fluttered between Kuroo’s fuming frame and Kenma’s nervous pride. He held Konoha tighter, feeling his throat dry up with stress. 

Never in his life had he felt so overwhelmed, Kenma’s hidden fear clashing with Kuroo’s furious pheromones. The entire apartment was reeking of tension, and his instincts beckoned him both to attack and protect, to the extent where he had to consciously restrain himself not to claw Konoha’s arm.

Kuroo took a step towards Kenma, then stopped. Bokuto had been this close to pouncing. On whom? He wasn’t sure… 

“Bokuto’s actions could lead us to our doom. I am trying my best to keep us safe.”

“I know,” Kenma interrupted him, “But chastising a part of our people isn’t what’s gonna save us.”

Kuroo’s gaze flickered, and he shook his head, “What-”

“I’m talking about your method. Going from building to building, talking everyone out of addressing Akaashi. This won’t help. Trained Ferals are Ferals all the same.”

Bokuto saw it. How something snapped inside of Kuroo, from the spark in his dark gaze to the twitch in his muscles. He felt his stomach tightening, but both Konoha and the Alpha knew better than to intervene: only Kenma could convince Tetsurou.

“Trained Ferals are threats,” Kuroo growled – and his voice sounded much too tight, much too cold for Bokuto’s liking, “I’ve listened to you in the past, Kenma. You are smart. But I draw the line between strokes of genius and utter nonsense.”

Kenma stiffened, and Kuroo took another step towards him, “We can’t save everyone, Kenma. You’ve made me realise the Ferals of this Street were worth saving, but that man? That man is a traitor. All he wants is to bring us down.”

Bokuto couldn’t help himself.

“That’s not true!” he gasped, shivering as Kuroo shot him a cold glare, “A… Akaashi isn’t heartless. He’s probably not acting out of his own free will, he-”

“Oh I know that.”

Bokuto’s heart tightened. He saw himself, for a split second, a few years back. He saw Kuroo’s warm smiles, heard his stupid laughter, listened to him blabbering about chemistry for hours.

This man wouldn’t have hurt a fly, wouldn’t have raised his voice at anyone.

Were the humans right, then? Was this mutation a curse that turned kind souls into monsters?

Bokuto’s chest ached, but he couldn’t accept it. He wasn’t a monster, and neither was Akaashi. As for Kuroo…

“What do you mean, you “know that”?” he spoke in a tear-soaked voice, “If you knew it, you wouldn’t give up on him...”

Would you, Kuroo?

Bokuto saw Kenma and Konoha turning to him upon hearing the tremor in his voice, but he only had eyes for his best friend. He couldn’t believe this man with whom he had shared a lifetime could be so heartless.

Yet Tetsurou’s gaze remained cold, and only his lips twitched. Was it distress or disgust, Bokuto couldn’t tell anymore… 

“I am giving up on him because he is a lost cause, Koutarou,” Kuroo spoke coldly, “He is trained, tamed, maybe even brainwashed or microchipped. Breaking him out would probably be even harder than freeing Yaku and Shibayama.”

Bokuto shook his head. His cheeks were warm and wet, and his vision was hazy by now. He couldn’t care less. He could only refuse, fight back.

Fight for the only friend he had left from a past life.

“You’re wrong,” he sniffled, “You’re wrong, Kuroo. He’s not a lost cause. He’s hurt. Can’t you see? Didn’t you see how those soldiers beat him up?”

“He may be hurt, but we can’t save everyone.”

“We _can_.” 

Bokuto gazed up, tears dripping down his cheeks. He was shaking with anger and sorrow, fists tightened into balls, “You just have to _believe_ in us, _trust_ us.”

Through the blurry veil of his own emotion, Bokuto vaguely saw the flicker in Kuroo’s eyes. Was the sight painful to him?

Bokuto hoped it was, at least a little.

“If you don’t believe in us, if you don’t allow yourself to rest or to ask for advice, you will never be able to control yourself. And if you don’t, then… then _we_ will never be able to trust you.”

A sob silenced Bokuto’s thoughts and words, and he gazed down, shrinking onto himself. His chest was tied with feelings he couldn’t contain and yet still pained him in their urgency to explode. He felt too much, for this friend he was losing and this poor man he wanted to save.

Konoha was rubbing soothing circles on his lower back, and the circular motion appeased his heart a little. 

That was, until two hands pressed against his shoulders. He hated the way his body tensed up against the once familiar touch.

“Bokuto...” 

Kuroo’s voice came out so much softer, bringing a thousand tears to his eyes. Oh he yearned for simpler times…

“Bokuto, I’m sorry…” Tetsurou leaned in, resting his forehead against his friend’s, “I have no choice.”

“You do. You always have a choice. You can always choose _kindness_ , Kuroo.”

Bokuto’s eyes flickering with pain as he shook his head. Near the corridor, Kenma was gazing away, and Konoha averted his gaze too.

He watched as Kuroo’s eyes fell to the ground in shame. His face was twisted in such conflicted sorrow and coldness that Bokuto almost wanted to kiss him. Out of love, friendship, fear, anger…

Anything to keep his best friend grounded into tenderness instead of this blind hatred towards which he was straying.

“I can’t,” Kuroo breathed out in a strangled voice, “I can’t lose anyone else.”

Fury suddenly boiled through Bokuto’s veins, as human as tears were. He grabbed Kuroo’s shirt, dragging him closer until their nose brushed against each other. His eyes were burning into Tetsurou’s confused pupils.

“You’ll lose _everyone_ if you lose yourself, Kuroo,” he seethed, tears streaming down his cheeks as he gritted his teeth, “What will Yaku say if he comes back to you having sacrificed the entire world for an easier win?”

Kuroo shivered, frightened eyes narrowing. He raised his hands to grab Bokuto’s wrists carefully, “There is no _win_ if we don’t play it safe. We have no choice. We don’t have the luxury of possibilities.”

His fingers tightened around Bokuto’s wrists, “This is war, Bokuto. We _cannot_ save everyone. Grow _up_.”

Bokuto’s eyes widened, and he unconsciously shook his head in disbelief. Horror danced in his eyes, making Kuroo’s fury flicker. 

The two Alphas were now emitting pheromones again, enough for Konoha to call for them to calm down, trying to slither an arm in between them.

But they stared each other down without batting an eye, as tensed as a rope on a deadly mountain. It only took one of them to let go and condemn the other… 

“And if Yaku and Shibayama are Trained Ferals by the time we free them. What will you do then, Kuroo?” Bokuto breathed out, pupils constricted to an extreme.

Kuroo’s hormonal emission soared, and Bokuto saw his upper lip twitching, almost baring his teeth. Konoha’s alarmed voice seemed terribly distant.

_An Alpha is challenging you._

“You know damn well I’m not talking about them when I say “lost causes”…” Tetsurou growled back.

“I don’t see why you’re making a difference.”

Kuroo opened his mouth to speak, but Bokuto’s grip tightened on his shirt. His muscles rolled, and he started lifting him without realizing it. Enough for the other man’s eyes to blaze up.

“Truly, Kuroo, the only lost cause I see is you.”

Whether his friend broke down or snapped was unclear. Any physical manifestation of his reaction to Bokuto’s words remained unspoken and invisible. Koutarou couldn’t account for the state of his mind anymore.

If Kuroo was to respond, he couldn’t do a thing. The loud bang of a slammed door silenced their minds, and the overwhelming distress of an Omega’s pheromones drowned the blinding haze of their showdown.

Kunimi stormed into the living room, eyes blown wide with stress and body covered in sweat. He had a bag in one hand, and hurried towards the front door without looking at them, completely curled onto himself.

Bokuto’s eyes widened, but Kuroo was faster. He saw his former best friend pouncing towards the young Omega, voice dripping with stress.

“Kunimi,” he called out, grabbing his wrist.

Bokuto had never seen the young man making such a wide, furious gesture; he tore his hand away from his grip, turning a pale, tight face to the Alpha.

“Don’t touch me,” he spoke in a strangled voice.

His words seemed to nail Kuroo to the ground.

Kunimi turned around and hurried out of the apartment.

From where he stood, Bokuto couldn’t see Kuroo’s expression.
    
    
      
    
    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HIYA
> 
> I. Am. So. Late.
> 
> I'm soooorrrrryyyyyy. Last week was frantic, and I've had a surprise birthday party, and was hungover for four days. I ended up being late on college work and had no time to post aaaaaaaah
> 
> Alright, as an apology, have this SUPER LONG chapter! Almost 10 000 words wtf  
> I hope you're enjoying it T.T
> 
> Lil pop quiz!  
> \- Do you still hate Akaashi?  
> \- Are you happy that Shibayama is back?  
> \- Is the Kubro household broken forever?
> 
> We'll see that in the next chapter! See ya in two weeks (normally)  
> Thank you so much for your support. Your comments keep me going T.T (I respond to all of them)  
> Don't hesitate to take a look at my cute Jujutsu Kaisen Family AU, "Family Expansion", or at angsty my Matsuhana one-shot, "Strawberry Blond"!  
> Drink some water, and much love!


	11. Consequences and Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Screaming would not bring them any justice. Apologies would not allow them to fly again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS: victim blaming/ sexual themes/ PTSD/ dissociation/ light transphobia/ light dysphoria/ (mention of) male pregnancy/ mention of substance abuse/ mention of self-harm / mention of sexual harassment

Night didn’t fall as fast as it did on the Street. In the silver prison of the FCC, Akaashi found himself craving the numbing nothingness of sleep.

Yet, on the dark ceiling, the alarm clock broadcasted the slow reality: 5:53pm.

He counted the seconds of his shift, tucked in warm sheets that whispered beautiful lies of peaceful slumber. Seven minutes separated him from artificial freedom, and thirty-seven from his curfew. Time stretched to insulting decimals when he wanted it to accelerate, and the frustration of his own condition almost brought him to tears.

Darkness called for him – or maybe was it that he imagined the soothing voice of a comforting presence in the unified heaviness of the ceiling. It stopped his mind from divagation, and guided his eyes towards an unmoving uniformity. The sheet crushed the soldier’s neck like the memory of a tightened collar, trapping the humid heat of a worn-out body against his pale skin. 

Blue eyes held onto the ceiling not to let go, and as he laid on that bed like on the edge of a cliff, no darkness nor blankets could cover the aching coldness of his naked body.

The silence of his thoughts brought him back to the Street and its freezing wind. Back then, he’d have killed for a sheet, and now he found himself suffocating underneath the warmth of his own immobility. His own weight sunk him down into the mattress, the sweat of his duty gluing the heavy blanket to his overheating skin. He was mummified in the modern bandages of a soldier’s orders; absolute and undeniable.

In truth, Akaashi had never felt as cold as he did, in that dark bedroom, under those warm sheets, against Arhiman’s snoring figure. He was freezing against the unmoving shape of someone who “burned with love for him.” Akaashi had believed in love, in another life, and still believed. Not in any god, not in anything. He believed in the first breath he took in the morning, and the last he exhaled in the evening. He believed in what he saw, what he controlled, what he could touch and feel.

Every step he took in that unforgiving world, Akaashi believed in its importance. He walked into the future knowing that it existed, and for as long as he could look up, he could reach for another branch, another hand – and maybe the next breath he’d take he’d exhale it in a smile.

Akaashi did not believe in love anymore, but in its possibility. He took every hit and insult knowing a caress could follow, walked past every door knowing a friend could wait there. 

In the burning coldness of Arhiman’s bed, Akaashi already believed in another day, another bed, and as the clock on the ceiling indicated 6:00pm, he let go of the darkness to stretch his aching muscles, get dressed, and walked out of the room.

*****

Akaashi had always been special. From his youngest age, his mom had told him he was the prettiest boy she’d ever seen. His dad, however, winced whenever she called him anything but “handsome”.

Something about the connotation of the adjective “pretty” simply didn’t please him.

Akaashi had understood fairly quickly that his dad was handsome, and his mom very pretty, and just as he loved his parents, he found himself adoring both words.

For the longest time, Akaashi enjoyed the duality of his appearance and mind in secret omissions. He wouldn’t correct anyone mixing his pronouns up, wouldn’t mind the occasional “they”.

Akaashi loved being both, or neither. Akaashi didn’t care at all. He knew beauty was a privilege, and androgyny its resulting asset. He’d been lucky most of his life. Lucky to meet people who understood or accepted, lucky to pass. He’d only known love, and barely knew doubt. To anyone who asked whether he preferred to be called pretty or handsome, Akaashi answered beautiful.

Now, Akaashi was a boy with a uterus. Closer than ever to whom he really was, and farther than ever from the peacefulness of his beautiful person. 

The corridors of the FCC were mostly empty when the clock struck six. Rare were the soldiers who lingered in the building’s arteries when their shift ended. The Eastern Observation Area had been calm enough since its creation not to require a lot of cells at work in its veins; an empty shell of an organization, with its white walls sicker than an anaemic corpse. The soldiers were laid off at 5:30, and the lights were out at 7, thanks to the thoughtfulness of an automated computer program. 

Both Ferals and Trained Ferals were not allowed out of their cells without a guard, but Akaashi was special – as he had always been.

Akaashi was beautiful. So beautiful that now the word made him sick. He’d rather be pretty, or handsome – he’d rather be stunning, kind, joyful. He used to be beautiful as a person, and now he wouldn’t even mind being ugly as long he could be an ugly human being.

Akaashi was special, for Arhiman had seen him, and fallen for him. Now Akaashi gave him this beautiful body of his in exchange for privileges, amongst which the right to roam around instead of being locked in a cage.

Keiji didn’t have many places to visit in this conditional freedom: he had to be in his room at 6:30, so that the night guard could feed him. They weren’t allowed to lock his cage though – Arhiman reserved himself the right to pass by early in the morning or late at night to visit his most beautiful boy.

So he roamed, dragging his feet onto the ground. He’d have wanted to shower himself, but he would only be allowed to rinse his body off of its fluids in the morning. The thought of sleeping in the sticky layers didn’t bother him much: whether it be blood and a much more distasteful liquid, Akaashi loved to hate his own monstrosity.

He had never felt as ugly as the day he had punched a soldier’s nose into shreds during training. The way the others looked at him in horror, the way his trainer kicked him into submission on the ground. He’d been covered in blood and sweat, on that day, hair a mess and eyes blown wide with the ecstasy of finally fighting back and succeeding.

“ _Now that’s a pretty ugly mess…”_

Arhiman’s annoyed words resonated within his mind. It was a euphemism, for the Commander had been furious. He had had to fight for the soldier not to be granted Akaashi’s execution in court, and his reputation had taken a huge blow.

Pretty ugly.

Akaashi loved that name. It wasn’t beautiful. It was ugly. Blood, spit, sweat. It was raw flesh, pulsating under his bruised knuckles.

Heaving chest and devilish grin on his face, Akaashi had never felt prettier as a human than when he turned into an ugly beast on that training field.

Ever since that day, Akaashi had learnt to hate, learnt to betray, learnt to lie. Everything ugly, he made his, for the greatest monsters he’d ever seen had called him beautiful. 

He was all belief and ugliness, the most insolent of apostles. And so when Akaashi walked past the doors that led to the Omega cells wearing nothing but the artificial confidence of a self-proclaimed god, he had not expected the most painful of realities would take the shape of his own Achilles’ heel: consequences. 

Consequences were unavoidable, for every action led to a reaction. It was easy to look up and ahead, ignoring the bloodshed, ignoring the past, for as long as you were not impacted by the consequences.

Akaashi believed in following days and possible happiness, and found himself vulnerable to any trampled body that held onto his ankle. 

In a moment of blissful high, the peculiar ecstasy of his mental self-harm had made him forget about Yaku.

He had not seen him since the day he had washed and betrayed him, or rather, he had avoided him since the very moment he had witnessed his hazel eyes widening in horror. Now facing the alley of cages, the emptiness of the building crushed Akaashi’s bones, barred him from moving.

Twenty cages, and two birds without wings. 

Yaku gazed up from the floor of his cell, and the burning eyes Akaashi had admired for their tenacity locked with his. The young Omega was sitting against the wall of his cell, watching him.

He hadn’t moved an inch nor spoken a word, and neither had Akaashi; they stared into each other’s souls, seeking meaning in their own silence.

There was much to be said, but screaming would not bring them any justice. Apologies would not allow them to fly again.

Akaashi finally raised his chin, and walked towards his own cell. Every step forward, his eyes sought the ground, and he fought to keep them locked onto Yaku’s gaze; surrounded by monsters, Akaashi had tried to make himself as horrifyingly human as possible. But as he stood in the presence of a soul he’d broken, his confidence was washed away by the painful reminder that Morisuke was more human than he’d ever been; he’d never been tamed. He was free, freer than Akaashi was. 

Keiji had felt so utterly strong, draped in the veil of his skilled deception, but they now stood on equal footing; two silent creatures, a monster and a man. Irony mocked the two of them, for the caged one was freer than the beast that stood on the other side of the bars.

Yet the FCC was but a microcosm; the greater prison was that of the world, separating humans from animals. They knew that, surely. But to hell with the rest of the world if they were never to get out.

“Did you manage to capture anyone?”

Yaku had longer hair now. Akaashi remembered the gentle copper curls barely teasing his ears, and as insignificant as this detail was, he noticed how the locks now twirled against his neck, teased his jaw. Only two weeks had passed, and yet, one was enough to change a man. 

Akaashi silently walked inside his cage and closed the door. The lights shone a piss-like shade on the kennel’s walls and ground, and he took a second to appreciate the room he had dreamed about for a week: a thin mattress and a light sheet, a sink with no warm water, a dry toilet. 

His chest tightened; the world doesn’t change in a week. Only humans do.

“We did not,” he breathed out. Yaku let out a sigh of relief, “I wasn’t able to gather enough evidence to Discover anyone.”

Akaashi dropped to the ground in a huffed breath, pressing his back against the cold wall. He could feel Yaku was staring at him again, but he couldn’t look back; he was afraid of what he would see in the hazel gaze.

Their silence stretched into a dozen seconds, before the free soul forced it to shatter. Once again, Akaashi felt the difference in their respective conditions. 

“And Shibayama?”

Akaashi’s heart tightened as if Yaku was squeezing its pulp for information. He’d have sucked the precious knowledge right off his neck’s veins had he been able to, strangled him in a vampire-like thirst for relief. 

For all his ugly beauty and the training he had gotten through, Akaashi remained unbearably weak to humanity.

“He’s gonna become my pupil,” he simply answered. The ceiling called for him again, numbing.

Yaku moved to stand, getting to the bars that separated them, “For _fuck’s sake_ , Akaashi. How is he? I am asking for details, so _look at me_.”

Akaashi’s eyes trailed down the ceiling, further and further, until his dull gaze met Yaku’s furious one. Should it be the light or the more vibrant glimmer of tears, he couldn’t tell, but the Omega’s eyes were blazing. He had to give Kuroo some credit for his tastes: he was stunning. 

His memory drifted back to the Street, to Bokuto talking his ears off with facts and gossips. He’d learnt a bit more about the untold affection linking Yaku and the Alpha. He’d pretended not to pay any attention only to remember every detail like precious memories.

Through Bokuto’s smiles, he’d lived a little.

“Akaashi.”

Somehow, the man he had betrayed still remembered his name. Keiji focused again, meeting his wild eyes, “Shibayama hasn’t been hurt more than necessary. I asked for him to become my protegee, that’s all.”

The ceiling called his eyes again, “You should be happy. With a little luck, he’ll receive the same privileges as me.”

He heard Yaku gritting his teeth in a barely contained snarl. Alpha pheromones were terribly overwhelming; Akaashi had learnt that fact barely a week ago. But if there was a scent that could tear down mountains, it was that of furious Omegas. 

He ignored the heavy beats of his heart as the desire to flee made his hands twitch.

“What privileges?” Yaku seethed, “Being free to betray his kind and fuck with the Commander?”

Akaashi’s eyes dashed back to his, and narrowed. He stared in silence, jaw stiff and hands clenched, while Yaku glared back with an equally hard look. Their pheromones clashed for a few seconds, before Akaashi gazed aside.

“No-”

“You reek of him.”

Akaashi’s eyes fluttered back towards the much, much taller Omega. He might as well be a titan.

“He will not-”

“He fucks you and in return you bring him cute little Omegas.”

Akaashi loved to hate himself. He loved being ugly. 

But the way Yaku spoke of him made him feel like a monster. 

He wasn’t. He was disgusting, but he was human.

His hands shook, and he cleared his throat.

“Yaku-”

“Don’t _fucking_ start,” the Omega snapped, “How dare you? Showing up like that after tricking me, leaving me without news for days! Do you think the soldiers gave me any updates on Shibayama? Do you think they kindly visited me? Every time they fed me, they reminded me that they had orders not to touch me, and then they detailed all the ways in which they would have wrecked me had they been allowed to! Don’t _fucking_ start playing your coy games with me again, because I am never _ever_ trusting you! How can you have the audacity to pretend you are _saving_ Shibayama, to pretend you’re a hero, when really, you are the reason why they’re going to fucking _break_ him!”

Screaming would not bring them any justice. Apologies would not allow them to fly again.

Yaku knew that, and Akaashi had accepted it. 

They did not yell for justice, they yelled because they could. In a world where they could not stand, they crawled towards each other; in a world where they couldn’t be heard, they sobbed.

A week’s worth of fear and horror poured out of Yaku’s lips and eyes, and Akaashi couldn’t face it. He lowered his eyes to the ground, sought a ceiling in an upside-down world. He could see Yaku’s feet shaking, his knuckles turning white on the bars. 

His words would not bring him back to the Street, his anger would not save Shibayama. But it could break Akaashi, and Yaku clung to that hope. If he could not break free from his cage, then he’d break him so as to free himself from one of his monsters. It was, truth be told, only human.

Akaashi feared him more than he feared the monsters.

“I was supposed to protect him…”

Yaku’s voice finally broke.

Akaashi looked up to him, and witnessed the same anger, the same tears, but dripping down heart-broken eyes. Instincts urged him to comfort him; humility shackled him to the ground.

Morisuke rested his forehead against the bars, shaking softly.

“I was supposed to protect him,” he cried softly, “And I’m stuck here. I’m stuck, and he’s alone, and because of you… Because of _me_ , everyone is in danger.”

Akaashi had long stopped trying to find someone to blame. He simply looked ahead, and believed. 

He had no answers for Yaku, and he wouldn’t speak a word for as long as being heard was all that the other needed.

“Can you… can you even understand it, Akaashi?” he breathed out at last – and Akaashi feared the question more than he feared himself, “Can you even feel the weight of our mistakes on your shoulders?”

Akaashi found no pity, no affection in his broken eyes. Only shone the desire not to be alone in one’s sins.

He gazed down.

“Every ounce of it.”

His apology was heard but not accepted. Yaku nodded for himself, for his own suffering. They spoke different languages, and shared different cages. 

So if dialects protected the anonymity of their feelings, Akaashi was also free to speak words that did not need to be understood.

“They are going to breed you.”

Yaku flickered, like a flame, like a wounded beast. No whimper, for nature only gave strength to those who walked forward. If you stop, you die.

“That’s why I asked for Shibayama to be my protegee. They won’t breed a Feral in Training. He’ll also follow me on missions, so he might be able to see his friends again.”

Yaku did not look up, and Akaashi sought his gaze. It seemed as if the roles were inverted. Now that he spoke, he stared. Now that he listened, Yaku avoided his eyes.

To what extent Yaku had felt the distressing need to meet his gaze when he spoke his pain, Akaashi couldn’t tell, and preferred not to know.

“The breeding should take place in a few days.”

Akaashi spoke without any aim, without any reason to. His words wouldn’t soothe Yaku, for they still meant that both Shibayama and him were doomed to servitude. He hadn’t saved Shibayama for Yaku, hadn’t condemned Yaku to save Shibayama.

He’d acted out of impulse and instinct alone, that same particularity that had gotten them all trapped in the first place.

If anything, he had made things even worse.

“I’m sorry.”

For not knowing more.

For betraying you.

For not choosing you.

Silence stretched again, filled with worthless apologies and pain that words could not relieve.

Yaku nodded.

*****

“You know you have to walk in, right?” 

Kuroo knew it. He had to. He had no right to fear the consequences of his actions.

He’d brought pain to his household, and now he had to soothe it however he could.

He’d been standing out in the coldness of winter, facing Building 7 without ever approaching it. He was hovering in front of its concrete walls, feeling tiny, unbearably easy to crush.

He’d been the one to break his friends, and now he was about to cut himself on their shards.

Kuroo had made many mistakes in his life, and the first of which had been not to confess to the one he loved. His gravest sin had been silence, and so he couldn’t afford not to speak up. 

The scent of Kunimi’s distress had brought him to Building 7, in which he knew Kindaichi resided. Maybe was it instinct that had brought his packmate to the Alpha, or a more intimate feeling.

Or maybe was it that they had already confessed to one another, and Kuroo had simply been blind. Looking ahead, he had forgotten to pay attention to those he loved, whether it be to Kunimi, who suffered alone in his room, or to Bokuto, who fell for a stranger with no home nor hope.

“There’s nothing a good talk can’t solve.”

Kuroo gazed aside with the glazed eyes of exhaustion. He was tired, simply hopeless. He’d left his home to a crying friend and two shocked ones, looking for a packmate he’d never been able to reach. He didn’t even know where he was going.

Tetsurou hugged himself, trying to warm his body up under the layer of his coat. The wind stung his reddened cheeks, and he exhaled in soft volutes of ghostly presence. In the white halo of his breath, his pained eyes met the feeble shape of Yaku’s smile and curls. 

Yaku had always been braver than him. He was so much smaller, and yet filled with so much love. Kuroo didn’t see much interest in being tall if he felt so empty.

His eyes stung as the ghost disappeared, and he shut them tight to hold onto the illusion. His words remained, like painful memories he clung to and applied to his current life.

He had to move forward. He had to apologize, and start over.

Erase his mistake, clean the board, again and again; the important part was to look up, always.

He’d make up for the wrong he’d done. For his sake, for Yaku’s.

Slowly he made his way past the door, following the ever-growing scent of distress. Down the hall, to the first apartment. Now another distress was spreading, catching in his throat. A honey-sweet scent merged with the panic, and slowly replaced anguish with anxiety.

Something was happening, something that wasn’t linked to Kunimi’s sorrow.

Before he could even knock, the door flew open, and he was dragged inside with no further notice.

Kuroo’s hazy eyes widened as he recognized Hanamaki’s strawberry scent and hair, and he took in the mix of honey and sour stress that perfumed the entire home.

“Makki, what-”

“Thank goodness you’re here, Kuroo,” the Beta mumbled, no even looking at him, “Kyotani has no idea of what the fuck is happening, so you might be of some help.”

He was dragging him down the corridor, barely leaving him the time to register the situation. Kuroo spotted Matsukawa and Kyotani, both leaning against the wall next to what looked like Oikawa’s door. The honey-sour scent poured out of it.

They both gazed up when they approached, Matsukawa letting out a sigh of relief.

“You found Kuroo?”

“We’re lucky, he came to us. You deal with Kyoken-chan, I’ll make sure they don’t behead each other.”

Kuroo’s mind raced with a confusion that was only made deeper by the heavy layer of honey now numbing his senses. He could see the tension in Kyotani’s eyes and muscles as he approached, and his own hormones raced with the strange scent’s effect.

However, he did not have the time to ask any question as to Kunimi’s whereabouts nor about the reason for this frantic mess, for Hanamaki quickly shoved the both of them in Oikawa’s room.

Kuroo’s eyes struggled to get used to the obscurity, and the violent scent of pheromones and honey didn’t help. With a low groan, he pinched his nose, yet as he was about to speak, a voice hissed from the darkness.

“What the _fuck_ , Makki? What the actual fuck? Get him out of here!”

“Oikawa, you need to calm down, we are trying to find a solution,” Hanamaki sighed.

Kuroo was slowly getting accustomed to the low lights. He could hear the ruffling of clothes, of sheets, and more importantly, the sour honey scent he couldn’t quite name. Oikawa’s minty perfume spiked the smell with unbearable animosity, yet his stress was more than obvious. Under that overwhelming sensory coating, Tetsurou could guess the faint scent of another person in the room.

“A _solution_? It’s only been ten minutes, and you go and get another Alpha? I told you I didn’t want anyone in this goddamn room!”

Hanamaki sighed again and shook his head, turning to the newcomer, “I’m sorry you have to witness this, Kuroo… He’s not in his normal state… I think something hormonal is probably going on with him too. Iwaizumi’s scent has already completely changed, and Oikawa’s been on edge since right after the shift.”

Slowly, Kuroo was able to guess Oikawa’s shape, as well as what seemed to be Iwaizumi’s. Funny, he hadn’t remembered the Omega to smell like honey; surely the change Hanamaki mentioned.

His eyes widened. There, under the sheets, he could finally see the both of them.

Oikawa was on top of the other.

A blush flushed his cheeks, and he spun around not to face them. Was this acrid scent…? Oh dear.

“W-what the fuck, Makki? We should get out!”

“Damn right you should!” Oikawa sneered – and his pheromones seemed to target Kuroo to suffocate him.

The Beta let out another sigh and grabbed his forearm, leaning in to whisper. Tetsurou’s pupils were blown wide with the hormones the two others were emitting.

“Kuroo, they’re stuck.”

He blinked, forgetting the awkwardness of their situation for a split second.

“I’m sorry?”

Hanamaki rolled his eyes and chewed on his lips. He titled his head towards the couple, “They’re _stuck_. It’s been ten minutes. We asked Kyotani but he doesn’t know more. I thought maybe you could help us, since you and Yaku… You know.”

Kuroo took five long seconds to process the ridiculous amount of information he was receiving, before his eyes widened and he gasped in shock, “What? _NO_! Yaku and I… We weren’t- we never,” he marked a pause before shaking his head violently, “I don’t know why they’re stuck! How the fuck does one even get stuck?”

“Now that’s a nice _dumb_ question, Kuroo! You got any more of those?”

Kuroo and Hanamaki turned around upon Oikawa’s annoyed comment, and the Alpha took a second to finally face the situation. The both of them were hidden by the sheet – thankfully, and seemed very much dishevelled. Oikawa’s hair was an explosion of curls, and his eyes pierced furious holes through the two intruders’ skulls as he gritted his teeth. Below him, Iwazimi seemed all the more flushed, and he was throwing his lover a reproachful yet peculiarly hazy gaze. The amount of pheromones emanating from them was indecent, and Kuroo’s head was already reeling.

“Oikawa, calm down…” Iwaizumi sighed, shutting his eyes and stretching his stiffened neck, “You’re insanely loud, and they’re just trying to help.”

Oikawa let out a low groan, and Kuroo blinked at the obvious snarl that rolled in the other man’s throat; Oikawa was unusually lenient on his own pheromones and Feral behaviour. He shared a glance with Hanamaki, who nodded. Something was off, beyond even the simple fact that they were stuck together.

Kuroo scratched his nape with what he hoped was an aloof grumble. He tried to appear as casual as possible as he took a step towards them.

“So um… How did _th_ _is_ happen?”

Oikawa visibly tensed up under the sheets, throwing him a cold glare. Kuroo definitely wasn’t welcome, and for once he could understand his fellow Alpha’s embarrassed fury.

“Why does it matter? The bottom line is that-”

“His penis swelled up when he came.”

There were some sentences Kuroo would have never wanted to hear in his life, and this was one of them. He rolled his eyes to the ceiling in silent prayer rather than annoyance; this was going to be one hell of a conversation…

Next to him, Hanamaki also averted his gaze, finding a sudden interest in his own shoes. Oikawa choked upon Iwaizumi’s casual words.

“I-Iwaizumi!”

The Omega gazed up to him with an unbothered gaze, “I want you off of me, Oikawa. If he can help, then I’ll tell him all the gruesome details.”

Kuroo almost snorted when Oikawa’s face twisted in despair and horror, but he had enough self-preservation instinct to clear his throat, “Was it… the first time it happened?”

Iwaizumi gazed back to him, and Kuroo felt his heart tighten upon meeting his green eyes. He had visited his pack more than he could count to see Yaku, but this man’s beauty never failed to startle him.

“No, never,” he sighed, before confessing, “But I think it has to do with my heats.”

Hanamaki immediately gazed up, eyes widening in shock, “Wait… Your heats? You were having your first heats?”

Oikawa gazed aside with a groan, and Iwaizumi raised a hand to caress his hair. A bashful smile grew on his softened features, and Kuroo found him unusually mellow.

“I think so… I started feeling… warm, I’d say, and Oikawa and I quickly got in the mood after that…”

He took a glance at his partner, before shaking his head, “It probably has something to do with it, now that I think about it… But if you’ve never done anything of the sort with Yaku-chan, it will be hard to tell.”

Kuroo remained silent for a moment. His eyes scanned Iwaizumi’s calm, hazy eyes, ran over the back of Oikawa’s head. He felt Hanamaki’s increasing distress in the soft pheromones emanating from his skin.

The Alpha took in Hajime’s unusually honey-like scent, the warmth tinting his cheeks in crimson colors, his soft voice, his calm behaviour, the cloudy glimmer in his eyes. He considered Tooru’s avoidant gaze, his protective anxiety, the furious stress in his untamed pheromones.

His voice caught in his throat as if he had forgotten how to breathe.

“Please tell me you are wearing a condom.”

*****

The four of them quickly concluded that the knot would swell down on its own, and Hanamaki and Kuroo had left the two lovers to process the situation in residual intimacy.

As Hanamaki closed the door without a word, Kuroo had already reached the living room. He slumped on a couch, knowing that his muscles wouldn’t carry him any further for the time being. His eyes locked on the wall; he swallowed a dry lump of panic, and clenched his fists not to lose his grip.

Behind him, Kyotani and Matsukawa had approached Hanamaki to hear about what happened, and soon enough Tetsurou could feel their horrified whispers and confused pheromones. He wished he could just lose his sense of smell altogether, so as never to feel doom shattering his body again in a single whiff of honey.

There was no doubt at all as to the situation, and yet he couldn’t put a name on it. He refused to. Not when Oikawa wouldn’t meet his gaze, not when Iwaizumi looked so fragile. Not with Yaku so far away…

Kuroo shivered, and leaned in to grab his skull between his hands. His body was as heavy as a stone, and he might as well sink down to the bottom of the ocean so as never to worry again. Underwater, he could forget about the scents of terror and… honey. Honey it was, for he couldn’t speak it.

What would Yaku do, in this situation? Kuroo couldn’t even imagine what he’d say if he saw the pathetic state he was in. He’d spent days warning his friends about the threat posed by a collared stranger on the Street, without realizing that they all were but human, and that their weaknesses and mistakes would be their only doom.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi were not to blame for seeking comfort and warmth in a cold world, just like Akaashi was not a monster for wearing a bestial mask in a world of appearances.

The more Kuroo tortured his brain, the less he understood his own self. He couldn’t even think about the solutions, couldn’t even imagine how doomed they were now that Iwaizumi smelt like honey.

He could only breathe, in and out, bite his lip, and loathe himself for all the mistakes he had made – for which he was to blame, and would never forgive himself.

“So this is happening…”

Kuroo shivered, raising his concrete head to see Kunimi approaching. He had not even smelled him, lost as he was in the train wreck of his thoughts. The young Omega’s eyes were puffy with emotion, but they weren’t red anymore. Next to him stood Kindaichi, an arm wrapped around his waist. The Alpha swallowed and offered Kuroo a nervous nod.

They both walked over to the couch opposite Kuroo’s, and sat next to one another. His heart swell up with relief and sorrow as he saw them so amorously close. Kunimi had been held and supported, and Kuroo hadn’t been able to offer him his own kindness.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the Omega was faster.

“Iwaizumi is pregnant.”

He spoke the words like facts, and they were. They tightened Kuroo’s heart and dried his throat up, forcing him to look down.

“Yeah, he is.”

He didn’t add anything else, unsure of what he could say to alleviate the pain and fear of the years to come.

It had to happen, at some point. Maybe it was everything the FCC had hoped for. Maybe Akaashi would turn them in, now that Iwaizumi’s scent betrayed him like a stain on white paper.

Kuroo wished he could erase his mistakes, but much like Iwaizumi, it was too late now. The seeds of their actions were engraved within their bodies; it was too late for them.

“He’s helped me a lot, you know…” Kuroo gazed up when Kunimi spoke again. His voice was soft, and his pheromones too. He seemed at peace, and the sight of him pressed against Kindaichi soothed him a little, “We talked a lot, this afternoon.”

Kuroo shivered. Iwaizumi had played the role he had never been able to act out. He’d been there for Kunimi, he’d been a kind presence, a smile.

Everything Kuroo had never been able to offer, despite believing he did. He was always all stress, all doubts, and Iwaizumi was all peace.

Tetsurou swallowed dryly, shaking his head.

“Kunimi, I’m so-”

“It’s okay, Kuroo. You weren’t mad at me. I let myself get overwhelmed with stupid stuff.”

His heart skipped a beat, and he gazed up. Kunimi’s head rested against Kindaichi’s shoulder, and the Alpha gazed at him with fond eyes. Akira kept his eyes on the ground but he spoke in genuine confidence that Kuroo had never known him to possess.

“This isn’t stupid stuff,” he breathed out, “I shouldn’t have yelled. Neither at you, nor at Bokuto and Kenma. I’m sorry, Kunimi. I really am.” His eyes stung with tears he was too shameful to shed; he didn’t deserve to cry, “I will do better in the future, I promise.”

He had to. He had no other choice, for dark times waited ahead.

Kuroo swallowed dryly, and was about to pledge so much more abnegation and senseless commitment when Kunimi spoke in a more hesitant tone.

“I think… we should start taking our secondary genders into consideration a bit more, you know…”

Tetsurou gazed up, confusion widening his features as the other man continued, “I panicked for virtually nothing, and found safety against a fellow Omega despite you trying so hard to be kind to me all this while… And you, you became aggressive by trying to defend what you thought was your best way to protect us,” he shook his head, “I didn’t want to believe it either but… maybe our new bodies really have something to do with all of this. Iwaizumi’s pregnancy is… proof that we can’t just ignore what we have become.”

Kuroo’s stomach sunk to his heels upon receiving the truth like an arrow through his heart. Of course, he knew that. Unconsciously, he knew that pheromones were much more than just funny smells and social cues. He knew their bodies were different too, their needs were different – everything had changed.

But he’d ignored it, forgotten about it like a painless bruise.

So what if they were different? He still had to be kind and to protect. Even if Kunimi preferred Iwaizumi’s comfort, even if he was a stupidly protective man…

He couldn’t just let himself go because he was different. He couldn’t hurt those he loved just because he had the instinct to bite.

Kuroo nodded, before gazing up with burning eyes. He wrung his hands together and spoke calmly, “Maybe, but I won’t accept it as an excuse, Kunimi. I’ll control myself, I’ll protect you. Just like we learn maths or good manners, I’ll learn to bend this new identity to my standards, and I will become a better person.”

Kunimi finally met his gaze, and a fragile smile grew on his aquiline features. Kuroo had rarely seen that expression on his face, and for the first time in days, he felt like he had done something right.

“Then I will too,” Kunimi spoke.

Kuroo nodded, squeezing his hands together in relief and joy. Everything wasn’t forgiven, but everything was said.

They didn’t speak for a few seconds, enough for him to realize they were nearing their curfew. A pang of doubt hit his chest, and he stood up with an awkward grin.

Surely Kunimi wouldn’t want to go back to their fury-infused apartment for the time being... 

“Alright… I should go. If you want to stay here for tonight, you can-”

“No way! Don’t worry, we’ve talked about this. He’s going with you.”

Kuroo’s eyes widened, and he turned around to spot Iwaizumi and Oikawa approaching them, both fully clothed and free. He didn’t know whether to smile or flee, but Iwaizumi’s cheeky grin quickly reassured him. Tooru was walking behind him, very close and silent, although his eyes met Kuroo’s fast enough; they were not filled with animosity, but rather with a slight hint of calm reluctance.

Tetsurou watched him softly, and saw in his tensed features the signs of silent distress and shame. Surely he was blaming himself. At the very least, he feared for Iwaizumi’s life, and for the child they were bringing into this ungodly world. Kuroo couldn’t find the words to soothe the untold pain of starting a family during a war, and so he remained silent.

He turned towards Iwaizumi’s hazy beam and glowing warmth; his honey scent soothed his heart. Whether it be the instincts Kunimi mentioned, or simply relief to see him back on his feet, Kuroo couldn’t tell. 

He knew Iwaizumi had to be terrified, but if he could offer him a smile in return for his courage, he would.

“Iwaizumi, I…”

“Kuroo, it’s fine,” Iwaizumi cut him with an exaggerated eye-roll, “He’s fine. _I’m_ fine.”

His words struck a note that resonated within Kuroo’s ribcage, and made his heart ache with sincerity. In truth, Kuroo was a worried man, too small for the shoes he had to fill in. He sometimes wished he could shrink, delegate the pain and the doubts, curl up against a loved one, and sleep through the storm.

He tried to offer Iwaizumi a weak smile, but his lips wouldn’t obey him, his hands shook. His cheeks were wet already, and he wasn’t quite sure how and when he’d broken down like that.

Maybe was it a few minutes ago, or maybe a week earlier, when the man he loved had been taken from him.

“It’s gonna be okay, Kuroo.”

Iwaizumi’s voice seemed so close, and he was. By the time Kuroo gazed up and thought about wiping his tears away, Hajime was doing it for him. He flinched against his touch, against the two warm hands that cupped his cheeks and brought him down against his forehead.

He met his kind eyes, his soft smile – he had missed the sensation of letting go, of being held.

“It’s going to be okay…”

Kuroo shook, and sobbed.

With a nod for all answer, he squeezed Iwaizumi into a grateful hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiyaaa~~
> 
> Chapter 11 woohoo!  
> Now, I don't know how you feel about this, but this chapter feels like a breaking point. Akaashi and Kuroo are at their lowest, so now they can only go up (right?)!
> 
> Now, I hate to have to say this, but recent events force me to make it explicit: I prefer comments over kudos, cause they allow me to interact with y'all and get some feedback. However, while I do appreciate constructive criticism, remember to be courteous and humane when writing such comments! I've recently received a lot of hate on my Jujutsu Kaisen "Family Expansion", and although I do believe those were trolls, I want to make it clear that I am open to any criticism that can make me improve, as long as you remain a lil positive and polite ;) Thank you!
> 
> Now optional pop quizzzzzzz:  
> \- Yaku and Iwaizumi are back, have you been waiting for that? (some have ajedjdzehjdh sorry)  
> \- Have Akaashi and Kuroo earned their redemption?  
> \- Iwaizumi is pregnant! Shit shit shit, will they be able to hide it?  
> \- This chapter merged angst with hope. How do you feel about the rest of the story after that?
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this!  
> Drink a lot of water, and I'll see you all in the next chapter~~


	12. Facing Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi and Shibayama are sent on a patrol, while Iwaizumi reflects on his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: panic attack/ PTSD/ male-preg/ mentions of death

Shibayama really had pretty eyes.

They did not glimmer like stars, shine like suns or like pearls. They did not reflect the joys of youth, nor did they offer the reflection of his interlocutor in ink-deep puddles. Shibayama had really pretty eyes that could swallow you whole – dark, like black holes. They looked through you without seeing you, pulled you in to drown you in their ultimate void. They called for questions that would not be answered, breathless as you were in the airless space. 

Akaashi could barely stand to look at him, to let his own gaze wander in the meanders of this boy’s suffering. It was a desolate sight that he couldn’t have prevented if he had wanted to, and yet the shame and guilt bore holes through his soul that would never completely heal.

His hands moved on their own accord, and Akaashi would have slapped them away from the boy’s skin had he been able to control them. They were drawn into the powerful polarity of this timeless tragedy through which a young man had lost his stars to a furious sink of nature. Yaku would not recognise his friend if he were to see him…

“What are you doing?”

The voice startled him in its softness, and Akaashi gazed up to meet the black holes. A shiver ran down his spine, tightening his lungs. Shibayama’s eyes were darker than his hair was, and his face as blank as a canvas. Nothingness. They had turned this boy into a shadow of his own self, erasing smiles and lines to give nothing but a dark silhouette on concrete walls.

“I’m preparing you for your first training day.”

Days started early for Trained Ferals. The clocks had barely struck six when Akaashi had picked Shibayama up in his cell and brought him to a small room in which he gave him his new suit. Now they were both wrapped in grey cotton uniforms, made to stand out in the most insipid of ways. Neither black nor white, Ferals were dressed so as to be recognized but never seen. 

Shibayama and Akaashi had not exchanged a single word for long minutes, and the young man’s question had broken through a painful silence. Just like Yaku and him the previous day, Akaashi had nothing to tell Shibayama, and Shibayama had nothing to tell him.

They shared the intimacy of the changing room, the suffering of their condition, but they had nothing more in common. They stood worlds apart. 

What Yuuki needed to know, he could smell it. He could breathe in the faint milky scent of his packmate on Akaashi’s skin, and he could tell the rough cologne of Arhiman’s presence within his body. Ferals had the advantage and burden of emitting what they could not speak.

“I’m already wearing the new clothes they’ve given me,” Shibayama continued, looking down upon himself, “I’m talking about this metallic thing you’re putting on my head.”

Akaashi would have rather he did not speak at all. How that angelic, emotionless face could match the deceitful coldness of his soft voice, he couldn’t tell. But the way Shibayama spoke his anger in sickly sweet blandness punched a hole through his chest. He forgot to breathe for an instant, clawed his wounding arm for a grip – any kind of relief at all.

And at last, he looked back at him. In his hands, Akaashi held a metallic shape, circular, heavy. He could not tell how he had ended up holding the object, he simply behaved mechanically, with silence for only stability.

Yet as he gazed up, Shibayama was facing him, and he finally noticed the metallic structure caging the boy’s jaws and nose. Had he been the one to strap it onto his face? Probably. Surely.

He had been ordered to do so, after all. 

“It’s a muzzle.”

Akaashi raised a hand to brush a few hair strands away – they were greasy, and long. He wasn’t so sure they allowed him to shower as much as they said they did.

Shibayama barely flinched when the Trained Feral touched him. Akaashi’s heart ached for this soul that was slowly stopping to fight. 

“Why am I wearing a muzzle?”

His hand froze mid-air, sucked in by two black holes that now stared Akaashi in the eyes. Where was the kid Yaku mourned every night? Was he underneath all that pain? The Trained Omega’s heart ached, and he lowered his gaze.

He was taking this boy into the outside world, wearing the suit of damned souls and the muzzle of silenced ones. How could he claim he was saving him?

What the fuck was he even doing?

“Because you’re not tamed yet.”

There is was. The answer, the great lie. Muzzles were meant to shame. That was the only taming that took place. They shamed young Ferals into silencing themselves so as to be allowed to remove the muzzle.

Yet Akaashi still wore one, from time to time. In truth, they twisted the rules to their liking. Akaashi was the most obedient of soldiers, and they still considered his eyes too bright for a submitted beast. 

Humans could not be tamed. Shibayama was wearing a muzzle because he was untameable, that was all. 

“Will I be able to speak?”

“No.”

“Why?”

Akaashi stopped as he was about to put the last part of the muzzle onto Shibayama’s face. If he set it in, he wouldn’t be able to hear him anymore. For as long as he had questions, Akaashi would listen. That was the least he could do, and, to be honest, that was also all he could do. Listen, just like he listened to Yaku.

“It’s made to mute you.”

“Why?”

Keiji froze again, the metallic muzzle an inch away from its frame. His blue eyes found a flicker in Shibayama’s dark voids. 

Why? Because we are Ferals. Beasts driven by lust, monsters of the apocalypse. If a child dies somewhere in the world, it is our fault. If a business goes bankrupt, we are to blame. We are animals amongst humans, we are the humans turned apes again – in fact, we are the regression of the human race.

Could you imagine a world in which men listen to dogs, take their opinions into account? What would the universe become?

You are being silenced because you have to learn not to speak. That is all you need to know, all you need to think about. 

Why, you ask? Why is the sky blue, and why does world hunger still exist? If you delve in too deep, you will only find pain. Only suffering, because the answers to these questions are either too metaphysical for human minds to comprehend, or too obvious for the soul to accept a suffering that has an easy solution. 

“I don’t know.”

Akaashi breathed in and out, and did not look up. Shibayama did not ask any more questions, and so he locked the muzzle onto its structure.

The last thing he saw of his face was the slight wobble of his lips.

*****

Iwaizumi had never been one to seek the spotlight. Growing up alongside Oikawa Tooru was humbling enough for him to realise getting attention was greatly overrated, and he’d never been a people’s person anyway. Oikawa, on the other hand, was a magnet for people, and not always the right kind. Iwaizumi felt great pride in being one of his true friends – and, for a little over three years now, his boyfriend. 

He loved Oikawa, and Oikawa loved him. From childhood friends they had become lovers, living through a story that would make any fairy tale palish. They were soulmates who had never been apart and would never be so, and thus he considered himself incredibly lucky to have him.

Iwaizumi had never been one to seek the spotlight, nor had he ever been one to fear it. Speeches and bright smiles were Oikawa’s speciality, not his. Yet no matter what his stances were, he’d never complained about a little attention, or about a bit of praise.

However, Hajime had recently found himself in a situation he could not exactly consider optimal. If he couldn’t be bothered by attention, he was now surrounded by it. The greatest comparison he had found to put words on his current predicament was that of that little kid on an interior designing show who casually mentioned they liked dinosaurs and ended up with a triceratops bed, a diplodocus desk, and a pterosaur lamp. A bit of spotlight never hurt, but Iwaizumi now had the flash-light right in the face, and that wasn’t exactly the nicest of sensations.

Iwaizumi was pregnant. Had you told him he would get pregnant a few years ago, he’d have burst out laughing. Now, however, he was what society liked to call an Omega, and he assumed he had to thank Mother Nature for this tiny little mutation that gave him a functional uterus. Now, pregnant he could get, and pregnant he had gotten. 

Truth be told, he should have known better than to fuck around without a condom. That was what Makki had told him, nervously pacing around in their room as he was trying to find a solution to get him rid of his lover – lover who had been, for the past five minutes, stuck – in the most literal sense of the word – inside of him. Iwaizumi had to admit he couldn’t blame Makki for his panic; in fact, he should have been a little more panicked himself.

After all, Iwaizumi was now pregnant. It didn’t matter whether he should have worn a condom, or whether he should have suspected the sudden warmth and excitation coursing through his body to be his first heat, he was pregnant. He could feel it deep in his bones, and his newly-acquired instincts could not deceive him. 

He was pregnant, and following that awesome little revelation, what he had come to call the “spotlight effect” had been enhanced by his new honey scent, which acted as a perfect “look at me being pregnant” sign. 

Iwaizumi would probably catch more gazes than Oikawa from now on, and he had to admit that thought amused him a little bit.

“Now, you’ve really done it, Iwaizumi-san…”

Hajime sucked on the straw of his drink with a non-committal groan, slouched against his building’s wall on the side-walk. The Street would be so much nicer if it had a coffee shop, or tables at least. Oikawa had had to fetch him a large coffee at the nearest Starbucks, and it was still three blocks away.

He gazed up to Tsukishima, who was walking towards him with his hands in his pockets.

“Yo, Tsukishima…”

The tall blond offered him a smirk for all greetings, and leaned against the building. His scent always had salty undertones, but Iwaizumi didn’t feel any malevolence from him. The Alpha simply was a naturally mocking character to deal with.

“Has the Great King lost all of his braincells or are your charms to blame for this situation?”

Iwaizumi snickered and jabbed his knee, “Don’t be an asshole… We are both to blame.”

He gazed up at the greyish sky; winter was just around the corner now. A grin grew on his lips, and he titled his head towards the Alpha, “But I wouldn’t mind the idea of my charms being too powerful for Oikawa to think straight.”

Tsukishima let out a low chuckle, before letting himself drop against the wall. The Street was mostly empty at around nine in the morning, so they didn’t have to worry too much about being seen. People in their twenties had the bad habit of waking up later than most, and this created a splendid window of opportunity for Ferals to see each other or shop in the earliest hours of the day.

The two of them stood in silence for a bit; their prison world seemed more peaceful in the morning.

“Who knows?

Iwaizumi shook his head, “Anyone with a sense of smell. Kuroo’s pack too, we’ve received a visit from them yesterday. Apart from you and them, my apartment and Oikawa’s, the others have probably smelled it, but it’s not official.”

“Any symptoms?”

Tsukishima was a kind Alpha underneath his love for mockery and his terrible taste for patronizing tones. Iwaizumi wouldn’t have expected him to be the first to check on his state, but he found it quite endearing. 

He shook his head.

“I’m always cold, and I smell like a beehive.”

Tsukishima shook his head, before pressing his knees to his chest with an amused smile.

“That you do.”

Iwaizumi smiled, propping his head back against the wall. He let out a long sigh, “The irony of it is that Oikawa is allergic to honey.”

The Alpha did not speak for a few seconds, as if he was processing his words. He then turned towards the other, and Iwaizumi saw his eyes widening softly.

The shorter man grinned victoriously.

“I’m pulling your leg.”

Tsukishima’s face melted into a defeated expression that did wonders to Iwaizumi’s mood. He let out a hearty laugh, tapping the poor blond’s shoulder.

“You’re all too serious, Tsukishima! I’m not dead yet!”

The Alpha groaned in frustration and shook his head. He still offered the Omega an embarrassed smile, and Iwaizumi had to admit he could look soft when he wasn’t being an asshole.

For a brief instant, his thoughts wandered through the field of his own curiosity. Had Tsukishima come to him because of his Alpha instincts? That was very much possible. In that case, would Oikawa be mad if he saw him there?

Iwaizumi pressed a hand to his chin. They had so much to learn, and sadly enough, he was probably running out of time. Soon, the humans would notice, and his life would turn into an absolute nightmare… At least, he’d try to share his observations with his friends for as long as possible, so that if this situation happens again, they can have a better chance at protecting those they loved. 

That was the only hope he clung to.

“Well, am I not supposed to be serious?”

Tsukishima’s calm voice disrupted the flow of his thoughts, and the Omega gazed up to him. The Alpha was looking at him, the frail sketch of a smile upturning his lips.

“This is not exactly good news, is it?”

Iwaizumi’s heart tightened. His stomach sank down, and he’d have wished he could disappear underground. No, this wasn’t good news. He was pregnant. He wasn’t supposed to be. He was supposed to live his life, study, laugh, love.

Now, his body would soon betray him, and this little life growing inside of him would probably live a nightmarish existence… If it lived.

Iwaizumi swallowed dryly and looked away.

“It isn’t. But for now I’m holding on,” he admitted, “Lev and Yahaba are keeping an eye on me, Oikawa, Mattsun and Makki have promised to visit me often. Kuroo too, and once everyone has seen me, I’m sure I’ll have even more visitors.” 

He turned to the Alpha, and offered him a feeble smile, “We’ll find a solution. I have faith in everyone. And if things go sour-”

“You and Oikawa will take the fall.” 

Iwaizumi lost his smile. Tsukishima was now watching him intensely, his gaze burning through his own with a firm concern that made the Omega feel warmer. The Alpha’s worry affected him more than he thought it would. Damn instincts…

He gazed down.

“We haven’t reached that point yet…”

“But that is what you guys have planned on doing, isn’t it?”

Hajime took a few seconds to answer. Of course it was. What else could they do? It was their fault after all…

His hands tightened on the hem of his sweatshirt – it truly was a cold day.

“We’ll do everything to avoid this outcome,” he finally breathed out, before gazing up to him, “I promise we will.”

For Lev and Yahaba, who have already lost two packmates. For Oikawa and his pack, who loved him so much. For Kuroo. And for this unborn child. This baby that they would have to love, because love was all they had in this uncaring world.

Tsukishima watched him for a few more seconds, before smiling. He turned back to face the Street, “Good then. We’ll help you.”

Iwaizumi tensed down, and before long his senses detected the arrival of three new Ferals. He followed Tsukishima’s gaze, and his eyes fell on the figures of Yamaguchi, Kageyama and Hinata.

He couldn’t help but smile as the smallest of them almost tripped on his way over, bubbling with excitation. Now if Oikawa was to get all jealous over him chatting with an Alpha, he couldn’t wait to see his reaction in front of three. 

“IWAIZUMI-SAN”

Hinata dashed forward, and before Hajime could greet him, the young man was on his knees, staring at him with big hazel eyes and an even greater beam.

“Iwaizumi-san, that-” he cut himself, and greatly lowered his voice, “That scent, it’s yours, right?

The Omega grinned back and nodded. Hinata immediately exploded in a cry of joy, turning around and pointing an accusative finger at Kageyama.

“I TOLD YOU SO! YOU NEVER LISTEN TO ME BUT I’M ALWAYS RIGHT!”

“ALRIGHT DUMBASS I GET IT! AND FOR THE RECORD THAT IT COMPLETELY FALSE!”

The two boys immediately went on with their bickering under Iwaizumi’s confused gaze, and the whole situation amused him greatly. No fear, no judgment – not even any congratulations. These two had simply placed bets on him, and that was frankly the most uplifting turn of events Hajime could have hoped for. This was a symbol of normality; the casual reminder that it could be okay, that this pregnancy could – and should – spark joy before breeding fear. He was grateful for these two’s cheerfulness. 

Iwaizumi watched from a corner of his eyes as Yamaguchi immediately grabbed the two Alphas to separate them, and snorted a little as Hinata was literally lifted off the ground.

“You two be quiet!” he warned them in a low voice, “You’re going to exhaust Iwaizumi!”

The Alphas blinked in slight shock yet seemed to calm down a little. They settled on elbowing each other with relative calmness, and their behaviour almost stole another chuckle off Iwaizumi’s lips. He gazed up as Yamaguchi approached and crouched to his level. His kind eyes shone with a glimmer of concern that Hajime was thankful for without considering it necessary; he was not dying, he simply was pregnant.

“Iwaizumi… We heard… I mean, we smelled…” the young man shook his head, before offering him a green sweatshirt. Iwaizumi took the item with a confused smile; it was drenched in Tadashi’s scent, a soft mix of almond andhazelnut.

“This isn’t much,” the other Omega explained, “But I felt like you might need comfy clothes. And I suppose…” he scratched his nape, “I don’t know, I simply felt like you might need an Omega presence next to you…”

Iwaizumi’s heart tightened with endearment as the other boy blushed, and he shook his head. Instincts were a funny kind of insight, and he couldn’t say he didn’t feel his body respond positively to Yamaguchi’s arrival. His muscles had relaxed, and he felt completely at peace.

“Thanks, Yamaguchi,” he reassured him, “I appreciate.”

The freckled boy smiled and nodded. His scent turned sweeter with relief, and Iwaizumi was amused to smell the same shift in Tsukishima’s scent. Ah, young love and its stupid reasons for endearment… 

Truth be told he couldn’t exactly mock them: Oikawa’s scent always turned to an awful sugary mint tone whenever he kissed him.

Iwaizumi watched as Kageyama and Hinata approached again. They seemed more hesitant, offering the pregnant Omega a nervous smile while sharing brief glances. He raised a brow at them.

“Aren’t you coming closer?”

Hinata gulped, his eyes widening as he tried to explain himself. Kageyama was faster, reaching out behind his nape to scratch it in dismissive embarrassment. 

“Well, isn’t Oikawa-san going to get mad if too many Alphas approach you?”

It was Iwaizumi’s turn to blink in confusion. Oikawa had shown signs of being more possessive lately, but this aspect of the situation had never crossed his mind. He frowned in shock.

“Wha- Well, Oikawa can kiss my ass!”

The two younger ones watched him with wide eyes and amused smiles, and Tsukishima let out a snort.

“Love is in the air~”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. He wasn’t going to let his overprotective lover get in the way of his friendships. If Oikawa was pissed, he’d have to file a complaint.

“Don’t push your luck, Tsukishima…” he warned with a playful grin, “I’ll have Yamaguchi avenge me if you annoy me.”

Yamaguchi immediately grinned, while Tsukishima simply shrugged. He was visibly unimpressed, “He wouldn’t.”

“I would,” the other immediately snapped back.

The Alpha stared at his lover with a twitch of the lips that betrayed his disbelief. Hinata immediately crouched beside Iwaizumi, a devilish grin on his lips.

“You tell him, Yamaguchi!”

Tsukishima shot his packmate an annoyed glare, but he was ultimately defeated when Yamaguchi simply gave the red-hair a thumbs-up. Outnumbered, the Alpha simply rolled his eyes. 

“Whatever, don’t hide behind me when the Great King storms out and sees us near his beloved boyfriend.”

Iwaizumi scrunched up his nose, and Kageyama frowned, “Iwaizumi’s not a damsel in distress., you know…”

Hajime snorted and raised a hand towards the other Alpha, “Exactly! You should listen to him more, Tsukishima.”

“Yes! You’re not even our Pack Alpha,” Hinata snickered, sticking his tongue out.

Tsukishima rolled his eyes and stared him down, “Lower your voice, will you? I’m not taking part in your dumb mockeries-”

He stopped, and the joyful little group fell awfully silent. A minty scent had taken over their friendly atmosphere, drowning them in its intensity. 

It was far, _far_ from sugary.

“So I go and fetch you a sweatshirt, and you just have a chitchat with other dudes?”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. Now there it was…

He gazed up towards the building’s door, meeting the impressive figure of his dear Alpha on the threshold. Oikawa looked so much bigger when he was mad, but Hajime had long learnt not to be too worried; his boyfriend was all bark no bite. 

However, right at this moment, a shiver ran up his spine. Oikawa’s eyes were burning, and his hands squeezed the sweatshirt he had fetched with an aggressive attempt at staying calm. Was this state the results of Iwaizumi’s pregnancy? He couldn’t tell. But his own body responded to the Alpha’s fury, and he found himself speaking in a much sweeter voice than he intended.

“Well, sorry _love_ … Looks like Yamaguchi was faster.”

He raised and waved the green sweatshirt a little, offering Oikawa a cheeky grin. He bet on the fact that his lover probably wouldn’t threaten an Omega, but if he did, the clash between his angry idiot and Yamaguchi’s Alpha would probably be one for the history books. Tsukishima had already visibly tensed up upon smelling his pheromones, and Hinata and Kageyama had taken a wary step back.

Tooru groaned, and Iwaizumi was almost sure he saw him baring his teeth for a second. From the corner of his eyes, he spotted Yamaguchi sitting a little closer to him. Annoyance peaked in his chest, and he shook his head.

“Calm down, Oikawa,” he warned, “They’re giving me support. We’re “chitchatting”, as you said. No need to go ballistic.”

Oikawa’s eyes blazed harder, and for a few seconds, Iwaizumi’s heart tightened. He kept his green gaze locked into his, hoping for his lover to ground himself. Tooru took a sharp intake of air, and he prepared himself to defend his friends.

However, the Alpha simply exhaled, a frustrated twitch on his lips as he broke eye contact.

Iwaizumi found himself relaxing more than he should have.

“Sorry,” he grumbled, before giving Tsukishima an annoyed glare. He kicked his thigh lightly, “Move over, it’s my spot.”

The blond Alpha had visibly tensed down too, and he simply grinned back with a mock bow, “Anything for His Majesty~” he teased, shifting in his seat to allow Oikawa to sit near his lover.

Oikawa stuck out his tongue at him, before plopping against the wall. He buried his nose in Iwaizumi’s scent and breathed in deeply. The Omega smiled softly as his lover relaxed against his touch, and the rest of the group matched his grin. 

With an amused chuckle, Hajime scratched the top of his possessive idiot’s head, feeling pride burn in his chest in front of his efforts.

*****

Out of all the situations Kuroo had imagined would lead to their downfall, one of his friends getting pregnant surely was the very last one. It simply seemed – and was – impossible. 

He’d spent a little over a year making sure his packmates did not approach any other Feral more than necessary, absolutely certain that restricting interactions would allow them to avoid being recognized. And even when he first came up with that strategy, he had been persuaded that the greatest threat to their identity would be this strange urge they had to bite each other’s necks up.

And yet, reality went beyond his expectations: one of his friends had gotten pregnant. No more. No less. 

The cool air of morning hours had the benefit of refreshing his thoughts a little. Kuroo had not slept well. His argument with Bokuto had kept playing in his mind like a broken record, and Iwaizumi’s pregnancy had only added to his stress. 

His best friend had locked himself in his room the whole evening, and Kuroo had not had the opportunity to apologize to him. His stomach churned with anxiety, and he leaned onto his knees, rubbing his eyes. Even his favourite spot in the park couldn’t offer him any peace of mind. 

Kuroo had been sitting on his bench for over thirty minutes now, and his headache just wouldn’t go away. It was as if his very brain was being crushed continuously – absolutely unbearable.

If he could go back in time, the Alpha would hug his friends. All of them. Especially Yaku.

His heart suddenly swelled up with warmth, and he gritted his teeth in frustration. Fuck, if he could, he’d just sweep that little fucker off his feet and kiss him like there was no tomorrow.

And Bokuto. Lord, he’d squeeze Bokuto so tight, and treat him to some food or to a movie.

And only then, eventually, he would take the time to visit Iwaizumi and Oikawa, and would slap the stupidity out of them. These two deserved an award for Greatest Bad Idea of All Times.

His phone chimed in his pocket, and he considered just ignoring it. Kuroo had recently realized that he wasn’t good with people. As in, he had a tendency to ruin people’s life. So maybe he could just live up to the expectations that people had of him and continue being a shitty guy by ignoring everyone who contacted him. That sounded like a good plan. Kuroo the Bad Guy. Maybe Yaku liked stereotypical jerks, who knew?

Like any good resolution he had ever taken, Kuroo failed to stick to his new decision, and it only took a single ring more for him to take his phone out of his pocket with a groan. He unlocked it without that much of a thought, and quickly took a glance at his messaging app.

A new group chat had been created, and it included him, as well as Konoha and Kenma. Kuroo rolled his eyes upon seeing its name: _Come home, Dark Sasuke._

Now if Kuroo didn’t have a terrible headache, that would have made him snort a little. But for now, he was exhausted, and the last thing he wanted was to be compared to an emo boy on the runaway.

Regardless of his annoyance, he figured he owed them at least an answer. The first message was from Kenma.

_Kenma: Come home, Bokuto is sad. Stop sulking._

Kuroo’s heart clenched a little, and his hands tightened around the phone.

_Kuroo: I’m on my morning run. And I’m sure he doesn’t want to talk to me_

_Kenma: Just come home_

Kuroo breathed in deeply and pressed a hand to his lips. He was too exhausted to face Bokuto for now. He just couldn’t come home before his mind was at least a little refreshed.

At the same time, he had to be careful. Those phones were government-assigned, and they were probably micro-chipped. 

_Kuroo: I’ll be back soon_

_Konoha: Now you’re just being a baby_

_Kenma: I agree_

Kuroo groaned. These two were absolute devils when they wanted to. The wind slapped his face, sending a shiver down his spine. The weather would surely force him to go home faster than expected anyway.

He thought for a few seconds, before typing down.

_Kuroo: I’ll be there in thirty minutes._

He sent the text, then bit on his lower lip. He started to type “ _Tell Bokuto_ ” but stopped. 

They shouldn’t tell him anything, for he didn’t know what to tell him himself. He’d just find the words upon seeing him. He’d just…

He’d just give it a try. They were best friends after all. They would find a way.

Kuroo was about to stand up and stretch when an unfamiliar scent took hold of his nostrils. Before his senses could even respond, a soft voice arose from his left.

“May I sit here?”

Kuroo turned around with wide eyes. Next to him stood a small man which he could only describe as kind-looking, with a warm smile and little glasses that fell onto his button nose. He couldn’t be older than thirty.

The Alpha was too startled to speak for a few seconds, before straightening up in his seat.

“Ah, um… Sure! Please have a seat, I was leaving anyw-”

“Oh don’t worry about me!” the stranger cut him as he sat down, “You can stay, it’s fine! A little conversation doesn’t hurt!”

Kuroo’s stomach sank down as if it was suddenly filled with stones. Had this man ignored his last comment on purpose? Should he stay?

He offered him his warmest smile, trying to ignore the thunderous beats of his heart.

“S-sure!”

He needed to leave. Now. He needed to get back to Konoha, Kenma, Kunimi, Bokuto. He needed to check on Iwaizumi. He couldn’t afford to fall now.

The other man seemed as calm as Kuroo was stressed, simply leaning against the backrest and watching the greyish sky with a smile.

“This park really is a nice bit of nature in the big city,” he commented, “You seem to enjoy it a lot too. I’ve seen you around on quite a few occasions lately. We share this love for fresh air, I suppose!”

It was his lungs’ turn to give up on him. Kuroo felt them deflating like poked balloons, and he wasn’t sure he would find a way to breathe ever again. He had been spied on. Or at the very least, his habits had been noted. If this man happened to be linked to the FCC in any way…

“It really is quite a nice place,” he answered as casually as he could, gazing down at his fingers. He flattened his hands on his knees to stop fiddling with his shirt, “It’s quiet.”

“That, it is,” the stranger chuckled, “The scents are quite pleasant too, don’t you think?”

Kuroo froze. Everything within his body was telling him to leave, flee, run.

His eyes sought the other man, searching for any sign of ill intentions on his bright face. He couldn’t find any, but he didn’t trust himself in his appreciations. This man could be plotting against them: he knew about scents. He couldn’t have mentioned “scents” randomly, it simply was not possible.

Kuroo swallowed, and his throat burned as he had no saliva to humidify it. 

“Yes, they are,” he simply offered, before standing up, “I’m afraid I must get going. Please enjoy your walk, mister…”

His heart skipped a beat. He’d made a mistake. If the other man told him his name…

The stranger’s lips twitched, and with them Kuroo’s sanity shattered. 

“Takeda,” he then smiled, “Takeda Ittetsu. And you are?”

If the other man told him his name, he would have to give his.

“Kuroo Tetsurou,” he breathed out.

For an instant that surely was a second too long, they did not speak. Kuroo watched the stranger’s smile, and he could not decipher it. It terrified him.

With a weak nod, he excused himself, and turned away.

“See you later then, Kuroo-kun!”

Kuroo barely heard him, but the smiling tone sent a chilling shiver down his spine. He longed for a life in which smiles could not be deceitful. But that was a fairy tale dream, and Kuroo was too fatalistic to lose himself in fantasies. He just needed to run home to those he needed to protect, and make sure he never crossed paths with this man again. 

His stomach churned with the anxiety of his encounter. Had this man been observing him for long? Did he realize that he was a Feral? Should he warn the others?

He shook his head and hurried up to warm his body a little. He felt as if he had just taken a cold shower and was now walking around, drenched and naked, in a city that could see right through him.

He wanted to shrink onto himself and disappear – far, far under surface level, so as to seek the warmth of the planet’s core. And if he burned to his death, that would only be a bonus.

Kuroo chewed on his bottom lip and brought his nails to his teeth. He bit on them, eyes locked onto the concrete. This man definitely wasn’t a Feral, he would have smelled him otherwise. It had to be a spy then. It simply had to be.

Images of Yaku and Shibayama flowed through his brain, and he refrained himself from whimpering at the increasing pressure on his temples. Now was the worst time to succumb to memories. He raised a hand and pressed it to his skull. The world around him seemed so colourful and bland at the same time; he didn’t pay attention to anything, whether it be the sounds or the cars, the people, the scents. 

He just hurried his way through the crowd, knowing his way home, fearing that he would lead the hunter straight to the cage.

With a sudden thought amongst a hundred disasters, he spun around. No one. He wasn’t being followed. 

Despite that, he wasn’t safe.

Kuroo swallowed dryly, and forced his legs to move again. Faster and faster. As long as he could reach his home…

Memories again, assaulting him. The world he didn’t pay attention to was slowly being replaced by a nightmarish vision. A young man screaming, pushed into a van. And another – Yaku. Beaten to the ground.

He should have done something. He should have done something. And now here he was, trapped, followed, discovered. Soon he would be taken away too. Would he see Yaku? Would he be there?

His throat choked him, too dry for the maddening pace of his ragged breaths. He slowed down.

The world finally decelerated in its terrible spin, and Kuroo’s legs became as heavy rock-filled bags. He took notice of his shaking hands, his heated cheeks, his wide eyes.

He had to calm down.

The Alpha gazed up, panting to settle his breath as he gazed around. He was close to the Street already. He had been fast, a bit too fast.

His stomach churned as the sight probed his memory in painful reminders of the day his two friends had been taken away. He remembered the white truck, Shibayama’s terrified scent-

Shibayama’s scent.

In one painful heartbeat, his blood coursed through his entire body, and slammed right back into his heart. His eyes widened. 

A sweet scent of candies. He couldn’t be mistaken. Shibayama had always smelled like childhood softness and sugary delicacies. 

Kuroo’s heart jumped into his chest, and he pounced forward. His heavy legs shed their weight on the concrete as he bolted towards the Street. His lungs burned deliciously, fuelled by hope and cold air. 

It couldn’t be. It had to be.

One last turn, one last stride and…

Kuroo slowed down. Before him, in the Street, he could see the beautiful figure of Akaashi’s presence. And just aside, almost unrecognizable with his longer curls, Shibayama stood. Muzzled.

Two weeks of sorrow flooded Kuroo’s heart, and brought tears to his eyes. He took a step forward, then another. He kept his gaze screwed on the boy he had lost, and made his way towards them.

Every step he took, his scent was getting starker, brushing away the hauntingly sweet and acrid smell of his first heats. Just as he was at voice range, Akaashi turned around. A shiver ran up his back as the icy eyes pierced through his body. 

That was when it hit him. Just next to the two Omegas, Kuroo could see a few of his friends, a few Ferals. And amongst them, Iwaizumi. Oikawa was standing in between him and the two newcomers, his eyes burning, while the Omega just sat against the building, surrounded by Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, Hinata and Kageyama. The tension was unbearable, Kuroo could feel it from them. 

He walked faster, his heart thumping in his chest.

Akaashi kept staring at him, and raised a hand to press it to Shibayama’s shoulder. The young Omega turned around, and Kuroo’s heart sank down upon seeing the heavy muzzle that covered his jaws. He saw his dark eyes widening, and his heart ached to pull him into a hug.

Yet, he stopped a few inches away. He had to ignore his instincts for the sake of their own safety.

“Shibayama.”

The boy shivered, but said nothing. Kuroo’s hands shook.

“He can’t speak through the muzzle.”

Akaashi’s cold voice tightened his heart and stole his gaze. He set dark eyes on the Omega, but bit his lip not to say anything he would regret. He took a glance to the side. Oikawa seemed terribly tense, and did not even spare him a glance. The five others were looking up to him with nervous expressions, except for Iwaizumi’s soft smile. He was surely trying to avoid panic.

Kuroo took in a deep gulp of air, and was immediately overwhelmed by the soothing scent of honey.

There was no way Akaashi had not noticed.

He clenched his fists and gazed back at the Trained Feral, “What are you doing?”

Akaashi’s eyes did not flicker. Nothing but sheer coldness. Kuroo even wondered if he had any humanity left in him.

“Patrolling. I’m still on Discovery duty,” he tilted his head towards Shibayama. “He’s my apprentice.”

Kuroo’s heart shattered, and the way Shibayama’s eyes shimmered with tears crushed its shards to powder. He needed to reach out. He needed to reassure him. He needed to- but how could he? He was already being spied upon, and he knew Akaashi waited for one of them to slip to capture them.

His throat tightened, and he took a glance at Shibayama. His eyes shone with the same sorrow as that day, when he was taken from them.

He trembled; Yaku had not hesitated. Yaku had sacrificed himself for Shibayama to feel safe.

He had to be stronger, if he wanted to save him.

Kuroo took a deep breath, and approached. Under Akaashi’s burning eyes, he reached out, running a comforting hand through Shibayama’s hair. The boy melted against his touch, and leaned in to rest against his chest. The contact sent Kuroo’s heart aflutter; whatever the consequences, he would never regret protecting those he loved. Surely, Yaku had felt the same, on that day.

He pressed Shibayama closer, and raised a calm gaze towards Akaashi. The Omega simply stared back. Kuroo thought he saw a feeble light glimmering in his eyes, but the Trained Feral simply raised his chin.

“Well, have you discovered anything yet, _soldier_?” Kuroo cut him.

Akaashi frowned, and Kuroo felt Oikawa’s wary eyes onto his back. He had decided he would protect everyone. Kuroo simply had no time for manners and niceties.

The Omega took a glance behind him, and Tetsurou’s heart tightened. He was watching Iwaizumi. He knew.

“No,” he finally spoke, “Not for now, at least, sir.”

Kuroo stared him in the eyes. His heart hammered with confusion, yet Akaashi seemed as cold as ever. Why? Why was he lying? Iwaizumi’s pregnancy was the perfect opportunity for them to-

“I would also like to apologize for my behaviour the other day,” Akaashi continued. He did not even break eye contact, “I already told the truth to the Commander.”

Kuroo gulped and shared a glance with Oikawa. The latter took a step forward, and Kuroo extended an arm to stop him.

“What do you mean?” Tooru growled, “Speak clearly, asshole.”

Akaashi calmly gazed at him, absolutely not fazed, “I explained to my superior that the two soldiers with whom I had been patrolling had been pressuring me for fast results. I thus selfishly lied to protect myself. I am sorry for accusing you of being abject creatures such as myself and my apprentice. Your mercy and understanding are all that I can ask of you.”

Silence stretched, like the ringing haziness of a blow to the head. Kuroo watched as Akaashi bowed down in front of his very eyes, so low that his stomach dropped with him. He was not even sure he could still breathe, and so he pressed Shibayama even closer to ground himself.

Soon, the Omega straightened up again, his eyes still as cold and inexpressive. Kuroo scanned them again and again, seeking the beautiful glimmer that Bokuto had so often praised. Was it true then? Was there warmth in Akaashi’s heart?

He opened his mouth to speak, but the Omega cut him again.

“If you will excuse us, we should be on our way,” he spoke, “Thank you for blessing us with your attention. We do not deserve your kindness.”

Kuroo’s heart skipped a beat as Shibayama pulled away. He saw a far softer shimmer in his eyes that soothed his soul, before the young Omega turned back to join his mentor.

Akaashi and Kuroo locked eyes one last time, and the Alpha tried once again to find an explanation in the cold blue gaze of the Trained Feral.

His heart tightened; Akaashi broke eye contact a second too late.  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiyaa~~
> 
> LMAO I'm SO late (when am I not though?) To apologize, I'm giving you loads of new character interactions (I'm so nice ehjezjhzehjgezh it's to crush you better zjegzdahz kidding dhjdhdehg unless?)  
> Anyway here goes chapter 12! Enjoy! We are starting a new arc now ;) (with Takeda? OMG)
> 
> Optional quizzzzz:  
> \- Is Iwaizumi a little too optimistic?  
> \- Is anyone as obsessed as I am with Jujutsu Kaisen? No? Alright (if yes, check out my fic, Family Expansion *wink wink*)  
> \- I have no inspiration for this quiz oops. Who's your fav character so far in the story? Why?
> 
> As always, thank you so much for your support! Your comments make me so happy (and make me feel like this insanely long fic is worth the effort lmao WE STILL HAVE SO MANY CHAPTERS LEFT AAAAA)  
> Drink loads of water my pals, and see ya soon! (kidding I'll probably be late again but I'm sure you guys love me anyway *cries in narcissism*)  
> Love youuuuu ~~


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